


The Light Keeper

by impish_nature



Series: Lighthouse Keeper AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lighthouse Keeper AU, Now With Added Fluff!, Warning: panic attacks, monsters of the deep, myths and legends, nightmare one-shot, rocky reunions and introductions, there will be fluff later i promise, warning: nightmares, warning: severe burns, warnings: allusions to drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 112,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: A beast lurks in the waters. Stan loses Ford to the waves, the lighthouse his only point of contact and hope of ever getting him back.…He used to love the sea, now it’s taken everything from him.Lighthouse Keeper AUSeries of One-shots.





	1. The Duty of the Lighthouse Keeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commission and story collab with @garrulousgibberish based on their Lighthouse Keeper AU ^o^ Thanks for letting me get involved, friend! ♥
> 
> Title cause I accidentally put it as such on the word document and I quite like it in case other people write for the same au - don’t want to use the au title if that makes sense. (Please send, I’m dying to read and see e v e r y t h i n g regarding this au!)

There are many mysteries hidden in the sea, creatures far below that never see the light of day. Ghosts swept beneath, boats vanishing on the horizon to never see shore again, leaving only whispers in their wake.

Truths are lost to the waves, far below, out of reach, until they become nothing but stories, stretched and skewed through time. Ghost stories to tell around a campfire, ones that leave an edge to the air, brittle and static but are normally snuffed as fantasy once the night is swept away by day.

People forget there was almost always a small amount of truth behind every tale to have started off the legend.

This is but one of those tales.

A creature lies beneath the waves along this shoreline. Once a vast beast, a shadow that darkened the land. An eldritch horror, one revered and reviled by those he wreaked havoc on.

The reverence and belief gave him form.

The fear and dread gave him power.

He drank it all in, sucked it all up and grew stronger with every morsel handed to him. Storms rose in his wake, the earth quaked where he stepped. His laughter thundered through the wind as he watched the insects run from his ghastly illusions, watched them quiver before his shifting shapes and terrible dreams.

Watched them pray that he would spare them.

It was hubris that broke him in the end.

The insects grew in numbers. They whispered when he rested, when he left them to their fates. Their voices grew in strength. Words became actions. Determination and hope bloomed as they came together as one against the horror that had befallen them.

Fear breeds courage, and courage was not something that he could use nor comprehend.

For all his power, for all his strength, he never imagined that humans would ever try to thwart him. Too weak willed, too cowed by his presence to even attempt something that would bring his wrath down upon them.

In his eyes, they could never win.

A human against a deity? Against **him**?

They were too small, too insignificant.

So why would they try?

And so the insects that he sneered at were in kind the ones that managed the impossible.

They defeated him.

They tricked him.

He never once expected them to lie to him.

They used his hubris against him.

They sealed him away at the bottom of the sea. Set up lock after lock and key after key. Convoluted measures to keep him held beneath, each member holding a different scrap of knowledge so that no one truly knew the full sequence of events to free him, just to be safe one of his reverent followers, those that hoped by worshipping him they would be spared his wrath, wouldn’t try to find the answer.

Beaten, vanquished, the fear for him started to evaporate. The humans celebrated, gave themselves fresh starts, let hope settle into a sure truth that the world would be safe once more.

And with the drop in fear, he felt his power waning.

He roared and fought against his chains. Storms billowed above him in the cove they had imprisoned him in, winds howled and lighting crackled across the surface that he could not reach. Sailors refused to test the waters, knowing what rested beneath ready to snap them up into its gaping maw. The terror of him may have started to ebb, but they knew he was still there, biding his time for one of them to mess up and set him free once more.

In this way, his form, if not his complete strength survived for centuries, even as he stayed powerless to move at the bottom of the waves.

It could not last forever though.

His story was passed down through generations, those who stayed to live along the water’s edge, to keep watch of him and protect the people, told the tale as a story. Kept it alive but only in spirit.

A final punishment to the creature. To only be known as a children’s tale, one taken as only a fable, a legend to warn of the waves.

Just a storm, just Mother Nature. That was all they had to be wary of.

Nothing to fear, just stay safe and stay alert.

Because the waves will always take what they are given.

Do not fear the darkness they’d say. The darkness keeps us safe.

Do not tread in the building beside the cliffs.

Those were the rules of the town, but the meaning, the explanation became lost to time.

And soon the children stopped believing altogether. Rolled their eyes at the stories, refused to believe that a monster rested beneath the calm seas that lapped beside their homes.

And soon those children grew older and knew too little of the tale to tell their own.

Their ancestors had known what had to be done, knew how his kind worked.

His punishment was to be forgotten. An immortal beast chained for the rest of time where no one would ever again utter his name. He would forever be trapped, watching the peace above him, unable to enact his chaos as the world turned and he was lost to time.

And it succeeded.

The beast succumbed to his prison. His form and power ebbed and flowed with the water until it was unrecognisable.

The storms dispersed, the winds stopped howling and the seas calmed.

Now if you asked the townspeople they would only shrug. There were tales that once the shoreline was a menace. A dangerous harbour that no fisherman would lay anchor in, that sailors would shake their heads at and continue sailing past, regardless of how much they needed to get to shore. But what had happened to those vast storms was a mystery, whether they had even existed was a point of small talk as the issue was brushed aside without incident. A joke, an old tale, nothing more.

There was nothing strange about their little town. Nothing out of the ordinary in the waves.

Nothing weird about the abandoned lighthouse that stood imposingly along the rocks.

No one remembered.

No one knew.

And so the beast grew dormant, tired and formless. Locked to the seabed until the end of time.

At least that was how it was supposed to be.

Until the questioner came.

And woke him from his slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t beat a good myth to start up something like this! Think of it as a preview for a big story to come ♥ I really had fun with this bit, I felt like a narrator ♥


	2. The Light Beckons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Ran’s art is included! ♥ Part 2~ This one was huge but it has to all stay together so enjoy a very very long part! 8D

“Wow, Ford, could you live in a creepier spot?” Stan gripped the duffle bag strap tight across his chest as he regarded his surroundings. He shivered as the wind blew off the surface of the water, ice cold and rattling through his bones. Wasn’t like he could do anything about it though, his old ragged hoodie the warmest item of clothing he had in general. He was used to the cold though, it was more a trickling sensation of dread and anxiety that was eating away at him and digging into his core that seemed to be making him feel it more than usual. He turned away from the door before him, his resolve vanishing slightly as he took to eyeing up the imposing tower that stood intimidatingly above him. Cold and decrepit, there was something about the old lighthouse that made him straighten his back and look around sharply, his senses tingling suspiciously.

It felt like he was being watched.

He shook his head, turning back with an eyebrow raised to the derelict old shack. Once it might have been a lovely building, shiny and new but it had just been left to fall into the sea. Of all the places his brother chose to stay in… not that he could say he was all that surprised.

Ford always did like places that had a bit of ‘character’ to them.

A bit of personality.

He scowled, his thoughts going down routes he really didn’t want to. He started to chatter to himself, trying to drum up the confidence he needed to just knock on the door.

“Honestly, Ford, what is this? The one time I don’t believe Ma’s stories. You know how gullible I am when it comes to her, but this time her saying ‘your brother’s dealing with things he shouldn’t be’ I laughed. I mean, this is you after all, right? Not me.” He chuckled to himself, cold and hollow as he let the lies bubble up.

Half-truths were easier than outright lies or the honest truth. Always had been.

How could he say that the last time he’d spoken to their Ma he’d said he wanted to see his brother again and she’d jumped at the chance to tell him where he was? She’d laid it on thick, sure, that he wasn’t doing well, but the seed had already been planted long before that. He just needed the push, the extra kick to get out here and actually do it.

He’d needed an excuse.

_Ma was worried. Said she hadn’t spoken to you in months. Wanted me to check up on you. What? You spoke a few weeks ago? Well, you must have spooked her then, she never said that…_

Stan nodded to himself, hand raising to the door as the justifications sat heavy on his tongue, ready to bounce back any and every rebuttal that Ford had.

_You don’t want me here? Fine, I was just checking up on you for Ma. S’not like I want to be here._

Stan’s stomach churned, his hand jarring to a halt just before he hit the door. He gulped.

He had every justification down to the worst case scenario, even as his heart thudded painfully.

_Please don’t tell me to leave straight away. Please. I might act angry if you do, I might say things I don’t mean but it’s only because I’m hurt. I can’t do this anymore-_

_No, you’re here because Ma asked you to be. Pretend. You’re good at that. You are only here because of Ma. That’s all. There’s nothing…you don’t want to be here._

_…Please don’t make me say that lie, Ford. I’m not sure I can act that well._

“You sure…sure are hard to find, Sixer. Even with Ma’s directions. Obvious she’s never actually been up here to see you. Obvious you gave her _your_ directions as well. An interestingly shaped rock is not a turning.” Stan muttered, endearing grumbles that eased the tension in his shoulders, eased the hissing voices in his head.

He could do this.

He had to do this.

 _Just keep talking, keep your feet on the ground_.

That’s all he had to do.

 _Stop thinking_.

And with that he knocked on the door, the heavy thunk ringing out around him and making him wince as he glanced about again.

_OK, maybe think a bit more than that._

Stan let out another halting laugh, trying to get the worry to dissipate in the self-deprecating noise. A small part of the anxiety that had been ratcheting up depleted swiftly. He’d made the first step, no turning back now that he’d knocked. He had to go through with this now. Somehow the pressure settled his nerves, strengthened his resolve as he waited with bated breath for his brother to open the door.

Nothing happened.

He frowned, biting at his lip. He didn’t really want to knock louder. Not when he was feeling so exposed, watched from every angle. The daylight was slowly waning and if he listened intently he could hear something almost like a whisper hissing in his ear, yet every time he turned around the sound moved, permanently at his back and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He clamped down on the shudder that threatened to overwhelm him. It was ridiculous, irrational, and he had no time for it.

He came here to talk to his brother, not get spooked and leave before he ever saw him.

Like hell was he going to give up _that_ easily.

To prove his point he spun back to the door, fist falling heavily against the wood. The noise rattled, bouncing around and around.

_I wonder if you’d hear the noise at the top of the lighthouse…_

Before the thought could manifest, before he could question whether his brother was actually there instead of where he originally thought he’d be, the door creaked open under his fist.

He grabbed at the edge quickly, not wanting the door to swing wildly or hit the person behind it. He could only assume that Ford had opened it whilst he was knocking and his knock had forced it open faster. He winced, waiting for the onslaught of anger, the lashing tongue and vicious barbed words before Ford realised it was him. He knew that there’d be shock for a moment and then the snarls would return, sharper and fierier than if he was a stranger.

He waited patiently, eyes closed and head bowed as he slowly let his hand slide from the wood and back to his side, assuming his brother was in control again. He stopped breathing, listening intently for the gasp, his name- _anything_ at all.

The silence was torturous.

A soft clunk made his head snap up as the door creaked all the way through its turn and hit the wall beside it. He blinked, realising no one was staring back at him, no surprised familiar face or angry words.

Just a black gaping maw into a dark unfamiliar home.

He coughed awkwardly, looking around again before poking his head inside. “F-Ford? Bro?”

He waited for a few seconds, stepping over the threshold and into the house but nothing came back to him. He turned in a few juddering moments, feeling fairly robotic as he flicked on a light switch beside him and closed the door behind him. He rolled his eyes when he found the key in the lock, unturned, another bar bolt across the top open and hanging. “Jeez, Ford, a little bit of security would be of use, you genius. Just letting anyone wander in…”

He couldn’t help the snort of derision at his words.

After all it was he who had just walked in unannounced.

_Speaking of…_

“Ford!” No longer outside and feeling exposed he called out loudly, voice reverberating through the rooms.

Silence still hung like a film around him, cloying and tense.

He tried to ignore the worrisome feeling that something was wrong, choosing again to carry on chattering to himself as he walked through the rooms.

“Honestly, you should be more careful, Ford. It’s a good thing I’m here, I’ll make sure you look after yourself… better…” Stan paused in what he could only assume was meant to be the kitchen, but from what he could tell the sink had not seen food in a while. He took a step closer before grimacing and walking away again.

He really hoped that wasn’t food anyway.

“Really? You got a roof above your head, all this-” Stan gave a small machine at his foot a nudge out of the way as he continued to walk down the hallway. “-equipment, and you still can’t feed yourself? Bet you aren’t getting that many good nights’ sleep either, knowing you.” He put on his best impression of Ford as he found a small staircase, creeping up it slowly on the off chance he had to duck something incoming as Ford realised there was an intruder. “I can’t bother myself with menial things like eating and sleeping, Stan! I must focus on my research!”

He paused at the top of the staircase, almost waiting for a rebuttal before his stomach clenched and the small smile that had appeared vanished.

_I don’t even know what he sounds like anymore._

Stan shook the doubtful thought away, calling out for Ford once more. That just made things all the better, he’d get to learn what his brother was like now! Maybe there’d been a long enough time for him to forgive him by now.

…He could hope… right?

His eyes trailed out of a window, watching just for a second as the moon hit the waves and bounced back again, rippling with the tide. He sighed wistfully at the view, letting it eclipse the doubts in his mind, the sound of waves lapping through his ears.

_That is quite a view you’ve got here._

The wistful sigh turned twisted, a hitch of breath, a painful whine, as a small boat bobbed into view, the towns harbour full of similar boats that were barely visible. His frown fell further, eyebrows furrowing as he dragged his now icy gaze away and went back to his search. His stomach churned though as his thoughts turned to age old beaches, warm summers and coarse sand now cold and bleak and painful to remember.

_How can he stand it? How can he stand to be so close when it was all we ever-?_

A small beep caught his attention as he walked past a doorway. He backtracked as the sound went off again, curiosity winning as he stepped into the room. Another eye roll took over along with an endearing sigh as he lit up the room. The shelves and walls were strewn with notes, crammed notebook after notebook lined the walls, pieces of paper haphazardly sticking out from leather bound tomes. Along one wall, photos scattered across a board alongside intricate sketches of the shoreline and various weird and wonderful creatures, lines and questions linking them as if Ford was trying to piece together some large mystery that Stan had trouble following. Not that any of that was new, none of it was.

He could remember jovial arguments as he came home from boxing practise later than expected and their bedroom, his bed and desk included, had become a whirlwind of paper for whatever had suddenly caught Ford’s interest and had to be solved right that second regardless of how much space it took up. Or other times, when Ford would just ramble away, pointing out various different things as if they all connected together easily when all Stan could see were random words and numbers held together precariously by Ford’s pieces of string.

He could also remember times he’d found Ford face down at his desk, words printed across his face once Stan shook him awake and told him to go to bed. He wondered how many times that had happened here too, eyebrow raising in amusement at the fairly and suspiciously clear space that had been made on the desk.

The beep sounded again, drawing him back out of his reveries as he looked around the room for the source of the noise. He shuffled in, feeling more like he was intruding than in any other room, a nervous shiver of doubt hitting him as he tried not to touch anything.

A small light caught his attention, as it pulsed on and off along with the sound. It sat beside the large window that looked out to sea, but he found himself ignoring the view, fearful that he’d see that boat again. He tilted his head at the little contraption, watching it in a dazed manner as if it would suddenly give him the answers he needed. “What is that, Sixer? Sounds like a radar.”

He gave a sigh when nothing in the room gave him a solid answer to what he was looking at. Sometimes he wished Ford left notes that were easily decipherable but then again, it wouldn’t be his Sixer if he did that. He run a hand through his hair as he turned away from the window, not quite realising how close the desk was to it.

His shin met the wood with an unforgiving crunch.

“Son of a-”

Pain flared up as he grabbed at his leg, wincing through the waves. He managed to squint one eye open, the pain suddenly eclipsed by panic as he noticed papers scattering the floor around him from the desk. “Oh shoot, no, I wasn’t even meant to be in here.”

He gathered them up in a pile, before trying to straighten up and put them back on the desk as if he’d never been there, which was difficult considering he’d only given the desk a cursory glance before. He held his hands above them as he twisted and turned, trying to make it look like the rest of Ford’s note piles and not like he’d painstakingly set them out.

“There? Well, it’s the best I can do.”

He gave another small nervous laugh as he carried on scrutinising the desk for anything else he might have overturned, eyes alighting on the one piece of paper that was set out in the middle of the cleared area.

_Dear F, if you’re reading this-_

Stan glanced away as soon as he realised he was processing a letter. It was funny really, the amount that he had done to get by over the last few years and yet he could still feel a wave of shame at his actions. He’d walked into his brother’s home, snooped accidentally through his things while trying to find him, and it was all starting to weigh on him.

_Should I just go? Should I leave him be? No, I should let him know it’s me, don’t want him thinking some random person broke into his home-  
…Might as well be a stranger though._

Stan hissed at the thought, glaring at nothing as he tried to reason with himself. He hadn’t meant to come in, the door had been unlocked. He hadn’t meant to snoop, he’d just been searching for him, his concern growing with every empty room. And now here he stood, eyes locked upwards so that he wouldn’t accidentally let his eyes wander back down to the page.

_But what if… what if it tells you where he is?_

Stan bit his lip. Wondering if Ford would understand that reasoning or just tell him to leave if he found out. He gave another sigh, hand clutching at his hair as his mind ticked over and over.

_What do you have to lose? Chances are he’ll kick you to the curb anyway. Might as well know he’s safe and sound if you can._

And with that Stan picked up the page, eyes scanning it in the light. “Dear F. If you’re reading this I’m glad you came back. I’m not sure what spooked you when were out on the boat but I hope you’ve come back to tell me if you’re here and haven’t just come back to collect the things you left behind.” Stan frowned, eyes darting to the room again, sure that everything so far he’d seen in the house spoke of Ford living there, not somebody else. “I’ve gone out, the usual place, I know you’ll be angry at me but I needed to see for myself whatever it was you saw… I shouldn’t be too long- what on Earth have you gotten yourself into, Ford?”

Stan dropped the page back to the desk, still none the wiser as to what was going on or where his brother was. Something had happened though, that much was clear, and whoever this ‘F’ was had done a runner from whatever Ford had found.

It didn’t really alleviate any of Stan’s concerns. If Ford was anything like he used to be then as book smart as he was he could be very oblivious to what was going on around him.

_This isn’t funny anymore. Where are you, Ford?  
Where are you?_

“ _Over here_.”

Stan froze as a soft whisper sounded behind him, right next to his ear. Whoever it was, it wasn’t his brother, that much he was certain. What he wasn’t certain about was how there could be a voice when he knew there was nothing behind him but the window and the empty space beyond that, even as his eyes widened and his hands clenched unconsciously.

He gulped nervously, slowly turning around. His heart pounding a fast drum beat against his rib cage.

There was nothing there, nothing but the roaring and crashing of the waves when he listened.

“Must have… must have just been the wind.”

He moved over to the window regardless, drawn in by the sound as he glanced about the shoreline.

A sound of pure relief ran through him, his shoulders sagging as he deflated.

His eyes had sought out the lighthouse again, the tall imposing building that dominated the landscape in his opinion.

A light flickered at the top, a small lamp glimmering away as someone moved around the bulb.

_So that’s where you are._

He looked up at the moon, wondering what time it was, as he shook his head. All he knew was that it had been a while since it had started to get dark. What on Earth was Ford still doing up a rickety old lighthouse at god knows what time? Trying to light the damn thing?

Stan snorted, shaking his head. _Yeah right, like Ford could be a lighthouse keeper._ The thought of it did amuse him for a moment even if it was so difficult to actually imagine.

_Probably some nerdy ghost story actually dragged him up there._

He grumbled good naturedly to himself, the mist of anxiety and doubt fizzling away as he walked back out of the house, turning the lights off as he went. It didn’t matter what happened really, the worry of where his brother was had been far more pressing and now with the answer he only really wanted to make sure he was alright. That was the crux of it, find out Ford was safe and sound and it didn’t really matter how he responded to him being there.

And if he carried on telling himself that, the inevitable would definitely hurt less.

It was the chill breeze from the sea that had him realising he’d already made it outside, a soft fizzle of warning rising up at the autopilot that had got him out of the house as he muttered to himself. But he crushed it as he squinted into the gloom, trying to get his bearings again. The darkness had smothered the landscape in his short foray into Ford’s home, the path crunching beneath his shoes the only indication that he was still on it.

All he could do was keep his eyes on the faint orange glow, just barely there, just a glimmer that would never help anyone at sea, and hope that there was nothing in his path as he trudged towards it, a moth drawn to the flame.

He wondered belatedly if the man in the boat could see the light at all and was just as bemused as he was. The abandoned lighthouse with a torch light at the top, an unfortunate and endearing failure.

The bemusement died quickly as the cold crept in, a sudden stillness overwhelming him as he resisted the urge to let his eyes dart about him.

His skin crawled as the darkness pressed in, even as he tried to remind himself of the ever lingering truths that the darkness was his friend, that it protected him and kept him safe when he got himself into trouble.

But there was an oppressive nature to the gloom, an electricity and a sense that if he took his eyes from the light for just a moment the shapes that danced on his peripheral wouldn’t vanish like they should. Whispers clung to him like ice cold strands, the wind tugged at his ankles, biting through the gaps in his clothes, hungry and relentless.

_“What if I told you there were things in the dark?”_

Stan kept his eyes trained on the light as a new voice entered the fray, familiar and warm but bringing with it a sudden clarity that it might not all be in his head.

That is, if his mother’s words were ever to be trusted.

 _“You’re my little fighter, aren’t you? It’s scary facing the unknown, isn’t it? So I’m here to tell you a secret. There_ **is** _something in the darkness. And you can beat it, just like everything else. So don’t let fear drag you into the dark. Keep it close, use it to your advantage, and know you can win.”_

“What’s there to fear if you know it’s there.” Stan muttered to himself, hands balling into fists as he took purposeful strides forward.

Fear of the unknown was one thing.

Walking headfirst into danger when he knew it was there?

Well, Stan never had been able to pass up a challenge.

He found himself groaning up steep steps a short few moments later, a sigh of relief escaping him even as he half-heartedly glared up at the long way he still had to climb. Anything was better than the night as he shut it out with the click of the door and felt the atmosphere lift even as the room grew even darker.

The light pulsed far above him, drawing him up. He tried not to focus on how high above him it was, the spiralling sight slightly dizzying as he stared at it.

_Definitely do not look down._

He shook his head, focusing on the light and nothing more. The more he stared at it and walked, the more he could ignore the fizzling voices in his head that tried to make him turn around, tried to stop this foolhardy notion in its tracks. As long as he kept pressing forward, reckless as ever, the more he could tell himself he didn’t have a choice anymore other than up.

The ajar door was in front of him in a blink of an eye, the shock of it pulling a frown across his face for just a second as he pushed the door unthinkingly.

The room was dark, the light flickering up another small staircase towards what he could only imagine was the bulb platform.

A small noise of amusement left him in the split second he took to scan the room. Boxes upon boxes lined the walls, dusty sheets covered what he could only assume were old items Ford hadn’t bothered with moving and had instead been used as placeholders for the copious amount of research he had brought up himself.

A desk sat across from him, hidden and almost bowing under the papers that adorned it. Stan couldn’t help the hysterical little giggle at imagining Ford lumbering up the steps with it.

“Geez, Poindexter. Wasn’t enough room in that big ol’ house of yours for all your nerd notes?”

He shook his head, thoughts muddling together as the glow seemed to flicker incessantly out of his peripheral vision.

_Wait, how did I see the light all the way at the bottom of the steps…?_

The voice trailed away to nothing in his head. The light was closer now, flickering and hopeful above him and tugging him ever onwards. Step by step, inch by inch. The trepidation in seeing his brother again had all but been eclipsed by the steady rhythmic pull of the glow.

Stan couldn’t help the smile that blossomed as the light started to move above him, the small platform above becoming visible and he could almost imagine Ford scampering around above him, nose still buried in his research and not even realising that he was giving out a signal through the large open window.

Each circuit that his brother did above him, more interesting details to the building became visible, entrancing Stan as he continued his steady footfalls. The platform above was full of small holes, ones he imagined had once been to light up the room below when the bulb was lit without blinding the occupant. But they weren’t just nondescript holes, each one seemed to have been cut in a different shape, a myriad of small symbols decorating him and the stairs as he watched them swim across his skin, watched them dance along the walls.

He never had been one for architecture, but he wouldn’t be afraid to admit that he was impressed.

_I wonder if Ford knows why they made it like that._

His soft smile turned into an all-out beam at the thought.

_Of course he will- the nerd. Wonder how long it’ll take to get him rambling away with that silly dopey grin on his face._

And with that thought he couldn’t resist any longer. All worry forgotten he bounded up the last few steps, jumping up on to the metal platform with a clunk.

He scrunched his eyes up tight as he finally was at eye level with the light, blinded even by its low intensity after the darkness outside. Silence reigned around him, the cold night air making its way through the large blank glass he knew surrounded him.

He peeked an eye open, the air leaving his lungs and crystallising in the air before him as if someone had punched him in the gut.

The light source had gone.

Moonlight streaked into the room, leaving a silvery cold light that made him shudder as the orange warmth was reduced to flickering greys.

The room was barren. Cold and empty. Just an abandoned bulb at the top of a derelict lighthouse, a few scraps of paper dotting about here and there, a large sign stuck haphazardly on the glass wall. The dust had him hacking as he disturbed it, clouds of it puffing up as he stepped further into the room.

There was almost nothing to say Ford had ever been up this far, let alone only a few minutes ago, his stomach twisting in anxious confusion at the abrupt difference to what he had been expecting.

_But the light…_

“F-Ford?”

There was no reply, the crashing waves too far below for them to reach him in the glass bubble he had found himself in.

_But-_

Stan turned to the bulb in the centre of the room, ignoring the oddly natural look to it as he raised a hand hesitantly to just before its face.

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing as no heat emanated from it, recklessly pushing forward to be sure and shivering as the cold bit through his fingers and reminded him that he really needed to get some gloves.

His hand continued to trail across it as his eyes scanned the room, a small piece of reality even if it was almost painful to keep hold. His fingers found strange symbols that this time his eyes couldn’t catch, raised edges that he followed with his finger tips and seemed similar to the floor.

His hand slipped back to his side though, no longer impressed by the odd ingenuity of the room when he was yet again one step behind in finding his brother.

_When I find you, Sixer, I swear to G-_

The door to the balcony clattered open with a ringing jolt. Stan jumped backwards, arm raised without thought against the sudden biting wind that tugged at loose clothing and scratched at exposed flesh. Papers fluttered around him, the poster ripped off the wall with the force of it, his hands instinctively went to catch it as it flew past him as he made his way to the door. He couldn’t help but stare at it suspiciously as it closed under his touch, completely benign, not even rattling in its hinges as if the wind had died as suddenly as it had come.

Stan shook his head, shaking the sensation as he reminded himself of the more pressing matters. He went to run his hands across his forearms, the cold really starting to seep in as he leant against the glass.

There was a soft crinkling noise as his hand tightened around the paper instead. He couldn’t drum up the energy to be curious this time, tired of this wild goose chase he seemed to have gotten himself caught in.

Still he brought the page up, eyes narrowing as he held it up to the moonlight behind him, wondering not for the first time whether he really did need glasses as he tried to discern what it said.

He rolled his eyes as he realised it was just a map of the area, covered in Ford’s chicken scrawl that he liked to call handwriting when he was scribbling notes he didn’t expect anyone else to see. At least it was a small clue that Ford had been up here at some point in time but it really didn’t help him in his current predicament.

Worthless to anyone who hadn’t learned to translate excited nerd scribble into actual words, as Stan had been want to say when they were younger.

_I’ve gone out, the usual place-_

Stan stood up straight as the words whispered through his ears. The letter on Ford’s desk, the one addressed to ‘F’, perhaps Ford had highlighted the spot on this map if he didn’t expect anyone else to read it.

He bit his lip, not wanting to get his hopes up again as he unfolded it, stepping over to reposition it to the glass where it had previously been stuck, hoping his eyes grew accustomed enough to the gloom to decipher Ford’s handwriting.

It didn’t take long for a particular ring to catch his attention, the myriad of notes spiralling around it as if it was the focal point of all of Ford’s research.

He stared at it for a few moments, the dark black mark in the middle of all the blue, his mind refusing to comprehend even as the room grew impossibly colder, as if it was sapping what little heated hope he had left in his heart.

_Oh._

Ice bit at his bones, deep into his core as the world tunnelled on to the small indifferent mark.

To anyone else it was just a note, benign and harmless and yet Stan could feel his world crumbling as his gaze stayed glued to it.

Photos bloomed before his eyes, detailed sketches and the strings connecting them lighting a trail of understanding in his mind as his heart sank through the floor and fell down the staircase to shatter on the floor below.

_Ford couldn’t have taken those- couldn’t have sketched those things-_

He moved on autopilot again, his eyes trained on the surface of the mirrored water, trying to catch a glimpse of the small shape he had been trying to ignore all night.

_Not from the shore anyway. Not unless he-  
No! He wouldn’t- there’s no way he’d…_

_…He did, didn’t he?_

His eyes sought it out, his body feeling like a heavy cumbersome weight as he swayed with the sea.

The small boat bobbed along with him, a toy from his lofty perch and yet, with all his heart, down there was all he’d ever dreamed to be.

Stood beside his brother on deck, seeking out adventures, finding hidden treasures.

_You weren’t meant to go without me, Sixer._

Bitter resentment took up the place where his heart had been. He wanted to rage and scream, wanted to tear the map to pieces, smash the bulb, the glass, tear himself apart along with the things that had brought him to this accursed place to see what his brother really thought of all their childish hopes and dreams.

Because that’s obviously all they were, children’s stories. Nothing more. If they had meant more to him, just like they had to Stan then-

_Nothing. It meant nothing- how could it have? If he can go- how could he?_

Tears pricked at his eyes, angry and burning against the cold but he blinked them away, rubbing annoyed at his face to stop them falling. He didn’t want to _cry_ , he wanted to _scream_. To stand at the balcony and scream his heart out.

Maybe Ford would hear him from there.

_How could he do that?_

He’d travelled so far to reach him, he’d done everything he could to get here. He’d expected arguments sure, expected it to be hard. Hell, he’d even expected Ford to slam the door in his face and tell him to leave and he would have deserved it as far as he was concerned. He just had to try, one more time, try and put things right and if Ford refused then that was his choice.

He’d expected that.

He hadn’t expected this.

Why did this hurt so much more?

_How could he?_

The magma in his chest cooled to a solid lump as quickly as it had appeared. Wretched disappointment and betrayal dampened it all to a lifeless husk, his heart encased in stone as he watched the boat bob along serenely.

_He doesn’t need me. He never did._

_Why should I stop him from living the dream without me?_

Stan felt the tug of an ironic smile, more of a wobbly grimace as his eyes tried to betray him again.

He’d been given the chance once. A job at sea, not an honest one, mind, smuggling something or other that he couldn’t quite remember.

He’d taken one look at the boat and refused. Every time he blinked the old Stan’o’war took its place and he knew he couldn’t stomach it.

He’d let them laugh, feigned seasickness and ran. Ran from the memories and the thought of travelling the seas without his brother by his side.

He bit his lip as he continued to stare at the little boat, wondering exactly what Ford was doing out there.

_You always were better than me. Of course you can sail without me._

_Who am I kidding? Look at you. You can do everything without me._

_Always held you down, didn’t I?_

He didn’t know when he had moved, didn’t remember it at all but suddenly the waves were crashing louder and the wind was tugging at his hair.

The boat was no closer but it was easier to see, no glass barrier between them as his hands sought out the metal railing.

Stan winced as the metal bit into his exposed palms, taking only a cursory look down at them as if it was more curious than painful before his eyes returned to their mark.

He was starting to feel numb, he knew that he should be worried about that but he really couldn’t find it in him to care.

Instead he just stared and stared, wondering if Ford looked up at the lighthouse whether he’d see the tiny figure that stood watching him.

_This is ridiculous._

He shook his head, finally pulling himself away, taking a step back as if dragging himself from a trance. He turned his back on the water, heard it crashing all around him as he tried to pull himself out of the pit he was digging himself.

“Stop it- so what if he has? I mean, it shows, doesn’t it? This was a fool’s errand. Should never have come here. He doesn’t want you, doesn’t need you, he’s perfectly fine on his own.” Stan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his head warring with his heart.

_You haven’t even seen him yet- maybe he won’t be angry! Maybe he’ll be happy to see you- maybe you two can both go sailing-_

“No.” He bit out, arms trembling as he glared a hole in the innocuous bulb staring back at him. “No. It’s fine. I came to check up on him. He’s obviously perfectly fine. He’s got this big house, all the research he could ever dream of and a b-” He couldn’t actually say the word, a small growl echoing out of him as he started to shout at nothing. “You’ll just ruin it all again! That’s all you do. Let’s just leave before he even knows you were here. Before you make a mess of everything again.”

_Yes. Look at yourself. Look at how badly you’ve done against him. You’ll only bring him down-_

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Stan grumbled as the voice sneered inside his head, finally able to move again, no longer caught in the trap of indecisiveness.

He stomped towards the room, his hand tightening around the door and paused once again, his heart thudding in his chest.

_Just one more look._

He closed his eyes, some twisted curiosity pulling him to turn around again. A punishment almost. It was his mistake, years and years ago that had led to this moment.

_If you had only been happy for him, if you hadn’t broken his machine- perhaps it would be both of you out there._

“Gotta face the consequences.” Stan whispered to himself as he opened his eyes again. “You betrayed him, not the other way around.”

He squinted through the gloom, clouds billowing up to cover the moonlight that had been reflecting off the water’s surface the last time he had looked.

Movement caught his attention, darker than the waves, just below the surface of the water. Goosebumps blossomed along his arms as whatever it was moved again, twisting and turning. He couldn’t make anything out only that it was much, much larger than the boat he’d been watching earlier, rippling and shifting before sinking out of sight again.

_What was that?  
Nothing- you’re… you’re seeing things. There’s nothing out there._

The clouds covered the moon entirely, the last streaks of silver vanishing and leaving him blind.

His heart thudded in his chest.

He couldn’t find the boat.

Stan juddered forwards, eyes scanning the water as breathing became more difficult.

_It’s fine. He’ll be fine, he knows how to sail obviously-  
But why can’t I see it? Where is it? Where’s the boat?_

The small stone encasing that had moulded around his heart seemed to crack and bend with little resistance. Shame and worry bubbled up through the edges, slimy and thick. It didn’t matter that Ford had gone out with him, it hurt, of course it hurt, but at least he had known where he was, known that he was OK.

_He has to be OK, whatever happens he has to be OK. Doesn’t matter how I feel just that-  
Where is it? Where are you?_

“Come on, Ford. You gotta have a light on that blasted boat, right?” Stan muttered, eyes still scanning the waters for any sign of life.

As he said it a small match light seemed to spark into being. Nothing big, nothing substantial, just a small white glow that seemed to shift and move about a small area of the water.

“A flashlight? Really, Ford?” Stan squinted in the darkness, trying to make out anything around the light, anything to let him know whether Ford needed more help or could carry on regardless. “You’re not gonna get far with a god damn flashlight!”

_He’s fine, he’s been fine all this time without you. Stop thinking he can’t look after himself._

“But-” Stan growled at his own mind, hand slamming down on the railing in a fit of irritation. The pain made the snarl of the voice vanish, the concern and dread bubbling up to drown it out as, even through all this, the boat was still stuck with minimal light whilst some- thing swum beneath it.

_Nothing is out there. Stop it._

_I can’t even see the damn shoreline anymore. How in the hell will he?  
It’s pitch black, how is he going to make it back to shore?  
What if he- what if that thing _**was** _real and-_  
What if something happens to him? I can’t just leave and hope he’ll be alright!  
If something happens to him-  
God damn weather, you had to pick now of all times-  
If only I could do something-

_Light. We need light._

Stan blinked, tearing himself away from the thoughts as the door creaked invitingly, all panicked notions brushed aside as one singular idea drove itself home into his skull. He dived back into the room before overthinking could claim him, hands forward to help him until they hit raised glass again. “I’ve just got to get you working again, that’s-” A hysterical laugh left him as his hands fumbled around the bulb for anything that might aid him. “That’s a piece of cake! Anyone can turn on a light.”

He continued to move, hands flitting and fluttering around the entire area, panic stopping him from logically thinking as he just tried through sheer will power to figure out how the light functioned, blindly pawing at it in the hopes there was some kind of on button.

“Come on. It can’t be hard! It’s got to- you’ve got to work! I don’t care how old you are, you damn hunk of junk, there’s got to be some life in the ol’ girl yet. Now, _come on_.”

_It’s not the bulb, it’s you._

Stan sagged as he sunk backwards, kneeling on the cold metal. He could just about see the glass in the darkness, could just about see the impassive reflection of his own distraught face.

_If anything happens to Ford it’ll be your fault.  
But nothing will happen. He doesn’t need you remember?_

He sat back on his heels, his mind warring, round and round in circles it went.

_Ford needs your help.  
He doesn’t need your help, you should just leave. _

Round and round, the spiral went and he couldn’t seem to leave or move or do anything to help anyway.

_Go see. I bet he’s completely fine without you. You probably missed the light he has, too busy panicking._

Stan nodded, standing on shaky legs. There was no way Ford had gone out to sea unprepared. He had to have some kind of light source to look out for himself. He was sure once he got back out on to the railing, he’d spot a little beacon in the water shining out at him.

He stumbled towards the door again, knowing that he’d have no peace until he knew Ford was safe and sound and found himself once again gripping the railing to ground himself as he stared across the waves.

The inky gloom stared back at him, too thick to pierce.

 _Where are you, Ford? I don’t care about any of that other stuff, I just need to know where you are_.

A loud metallic clunk came from behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the ominous noise. Charged static seemed to surround him as a soft whirring took over, a heavy atmosphere rising up around him as if something was waiting just behind him, waiting for him to turn around, waiting patiently, perfectly still. Toying with him.

He ignored it, crushed the sudden spike of fear and urge to move out of the way as his eyes stayed glued to the water.

He knew things resided in the darkness, but it didn’t matter what happened to him.

What mattered was checking on Ford.

Light flickered behind him, his shadow suddenly black and stark against the railing and his arms, as white surrounded him.

It blinked out a few times, clicking with every spin until it shone bright, bathing him in light that hit the waters below him.

_How did-_

Stan’s hands clenched white-knuckled around the railing as his body went to move unconsciously again.

Now was not the time to ask questions.

Now was the time to be grateful and use it to his advantage.

His eyes followed the trail, sure that the light should cover the entire water and shoreline and yet it seemed to be a beacon for him, a spotlight for his gaze to traverse.

His knees almost buckled as the little ship became visible again, a tiny drop of water in the vast ocean before him, so tiny and vulnerable but it didn’t matter. He could see it again, it was fine. Perfectly safe and sound as it bobbed in place across the serene waters.

_See? What did we say? Perfectly fine. Didn’t need you at all._

“Who cares, he’s alright, that’s what matters.” Stan sighed, relief leaving him in a puff of frozen air. A hand went to run through his hair, still vaguely shaking but finally under some semblance of control as he let himself relax.

He giggled, the bubble of paranoia lifting as he squinted, wondering if he could see movement on the boat or if it was just his imagination.

He waved just in case. After all, he was up there now and very clearly someone had got the old lighthouse working.

_If you leave now, Ford will probably think there’s a ghost up here._

The laughter came full force then, a shuddering ball of energy as he thought of becoming one of Ford’s mysteries to ponder.

That sounded nice, a parting gift to leave him with.

A black shape slithered into view again, cutting off the small idea he had been planning.

The laughter died, hollow and sharp to his ears.

The large shape he had dismissed earlier was now far easier to see. Still too far away to make out anything distinctive, the blob began to circle the boat, as if pulled in by the light just as he had been.

Stan hissed, eyes following its lethargic circle as he realised that Ford did still need him and he still wasn’t entirely sure he could do anything.

He still had to try.

“Ford!” He could feel his vocal chords hissing at the strenuous task. “Ford, move! Get out of there!”

He couldn’t even tell if he was being heard, couldn’t tell if Ford had even seen him. But the blob seemed to be getting bigger and bigger with every circle as if it was slowly but surely coming up from the depths, eyes locked on Ford’s little vulnerable boat, stuck far out in the middle of the water where no one could get to him.

_No, no, no, this can’t be happening.  
What do I do? What do I do? There’s got to be something I can-_

Something large pierced the water, bobbing up above the surface. He could see it reaching out for the back of the boat, thick and slimy it slunk further and further until it stretched above the wooden frame and started to slide onto deck.

_No! Stop! Get away from him!  
I can’t watch this, I can’t sit back and watch. I need to help!_

Stan pulled himself away from the morbid scene, eyes ready to scan for anything, any kind of alarm or something that he could use to draw Ford’s, or it’s attention to him instead. Whatever it was could focus on him if it meant that it’d give Ford time to escape.

He turned, covering his eyes to make sure he didn’t blind himself on the bulb-

And the light blinked out of existence.

“What? No, no! Not now, come on! Ford needs you!”

He glanced back once towards the sea, unable to make out the small flashlight from before which made his stomach twist nauseatingly.

Stan stumbled into the room, bouncing off the glass door as he hit it at the wrong angle, completely disorientated by the sudden bursts of light he’d been subjected to since approaching the lighthouse.

The room was warmer than he remembered, the bulb a source of heat that had yet to vanish, but it wasn’t what he needed in that moment. He had to figure out what had made the light turn off again, had to get it working so that Ford could fight that- whatever it was that had found its way on to his boat.

He couldn’t leave him blind out there! Even if the creature couldn’t see the boat it had already found it, it was only a matter of time before it-

He couldn’t even think about what it would do to Ford, there were no if’s to this scenario. He just had to get this blasted light working again so that Ford could fend for himself.

“What’s the big idea, you damn bulb? Come on, do I have to hit you to get you going again-”

He slipped on a piece of paper underfoot, too busy running towards the light to feel around this time as he walked, too determined and reckless to care what happened to him. All his thoughts were on getting Ford to safety. He flailed, twisting with a yelp as the paper shifted against the slippery metal and his feet were pulled from under him.

Heat surrounded him, his eyes widening as he realised just how hot it had suddenly gotten as his back connected with something solid.

Pain radiated through his shoulder, heat bubbled and hissed, the smell of burning flesh permeating the air as noise reverberated around him.

He only had enough sense and time to realise it was him that was making the noise, a scream ripping out of his throat even as he felt disconnected from his body, struggling to get to the surface of his mind, to make sense of everything.

_Ford needs you, you need to get to him- now-_

He tried to move, pushing down again as he tried to struggle upwards. He could feel raised indents through the pain, each line more painful than the overall heat that his very skin seemed to be sticking to. There was a hissing sound, pain eclipsing the world from his mind as he succumbed.

And everything went white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So. Much. Fun. That is this AU. Everyone should go check out Ran’s work and @howtotrainyournana‘s!!! ♥  
> This gave me so many feels - will’o’the’wisps and Greek myths where you can’t turn around- aaaaaahhhhh SO MUCH FUN.


	3. What Lies Beneath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3~ This one gets a bit dark so warning for nightmares and intrusive thoughts.

The wind howled, loud and persistent in his ear, it tugged and clawed at his hands on the railing, yanked at his clothes and his hair, as if it could pull him off his lofty perch and drag him down into the sea far far below.

Stan frowned, head bending to look over the edge before back out to sea again, a niggling sensation that he shouldn’t be here running through his skull but not enough of a warning to truly listen to.

_What was I doing?_

His breath puffed out before him but it didn’t really feel all that cold, just the constant pressure of the wind, pushing him towards the edge. He could taste the salt in the sea breeze, feel it hitting his face and mingling with the rain that was beginning to hammer down on him.

_Wait. It isn’t raining. And there’s no way the sea should be able to reach me from here…_

He shook his head, the storm abating for a moment as the fog seemed to clear from his head. Things weren’t making sense. He was sure he was meant to be searching for something- no, some _one_. He was looking for someone…

“ _Stan…”_

A voice hissed through the wind and sea spray, all thoughts of what was wrong about the scene forgotten as it spoke.

“Ford.” The word ghosted out of Stan in a gasp. Of course, that’s what he was doing. His eyes widened as his hands gripped the railing tighter, leaning over it to look out over the ocean, ignoring the way the wind seemed to try and help him further.

A small figure on a tiny toy boat stared back at him. The light of the silver moon showed the deck in sharp contrast. Everything gleamed, bright and luminescent as the boat drifted aimlessly in the sea.

“Ford!” He shouted, hearing his voice echo and ricochet off of the rock around him. The figure waved back at him, the flashlight in his hand flickering with the movement and he heaved a sigh of relief.

Ford had heard him.

Ford had seen him.

_Everything’s going to be OK this time._

“This time?” Stan blinked, eyebrows furrowing. Where had all that come from? Sure he was happy Ford had seen him but there was no reason for him to be alarmed. He was just doing a bit of research at night, nothing out of the ordinary. Not that anything really _was_ out of the ordinary when it came to Ford’s research.

He should know, he’d been trawling through it for months.

Stan sat back a bit at the thought, shaking his head. No, that wasn’t right. He’d only arrived that night…

_“Stan…”_

He shifted forward again, distractions brushed away as the voice came again, this time more insistent, more panicked. Clouds were partially covering the moon making it harder to see but he could still make out the boat and the light twinkling on board.

His heart fell into his stomach as he also saw what the figure was pointing at.

A dark shape below the surface was fast approaching the ship. White teeth and claws sparkled in the moonlight, multiple poisonous yellow eyes gleamed towards him, like pinprick lights hoping to ensnare and enchant someone into the depths below.

All Stan felt was horror though, dripping down his spine as he watched it close in rapidly on his brother’s boat.

Slick black scales stirred and shook as it broke the surface, its shape shifting as it appeared. No longer clawed, no longer full of teeth, a kraken emerged from the water, tendrils and tentacles popping out of the water to surround the boat, anchoring it in place.

A weird haunting laugh seemed to emanate towards him as the monster bore down on the tiny figure.

_“Stan! Help me!”_

“What do I do? Ford! What do I do?!”

The clouds covered the moon entirely and Stan was sure this had all happened before and yet the darkness didn’t seem to affect him. It was like a spotlight was on the boat as the creature’s tentacles ensnared it, as it wrapped around and around until he heard a sickening crunch and the boat fell apart into dust.

“Sixer!”

The small flashlight vanished below the waves, a cut off gurgling scream shook the rocks around him as he saw his brother reach out towards him one last time before he fell beneath the surface.

The monster followed him.

“ _Sixer_!”

He reached out as far as his arm would let him, as if he could magically grab Ford out of the water and right the world again.

_I have to-_  
There’s nothing you can do-  
If only I had got here sooner, if I had been here just an hour earlier maybe he’d have never gotten on that boat- maybe-  
NO. There’s got to be something I can do this time.

Bright light beamed out behind him, encasing him in white hot heat. He hissed, his eyes squinting and full of tears as if he was staring straight into the glowing bulb. He couldn’t stop the scream as he felt himself burning all over, from head to foot, sizzling and fizzling as if his very essence was being boiled away, leaving him hollow and helpless.

His arm slipped on the railing, his body pitching forward into blissful darkness, away from the all-encompassing pain.

The water rushed up to greet him, the wind howling once again around him, yet it wasn’t as cold as he felt it should be. He could still feel himself blistering, couldn’t seem to think about the fact that he was falling to his death, the lighthouse becoming smaller and smaller as he stared up at the now dark and abandoned glass lantern room he had been in only moments before.

He turned in the air, dazed and lethargic, the sweet release of the water a welcome balm as he watched it steadily approaching.

_At least I’ll be with Sixer…_

He frowned as the sea became a bubbling mess, foaming and roaring as he approached.

A giant glowing eye opened below the waves, the creature rising up to greet him as he fell towards it.

Laughter filled the air again, drowning out the sounds of the wind and sea, filling up all the nooks and crannies left behind by the fires that had engulfed him. He tried to put his hands to his ears, the sound ringing through his head as a gaping maw opened up in the sea below him, sharp glistening rocks surrounding the circumference ready to break him down piece by piece.

He raised his hands to his face, a last minute defence against his descent into darkness.

_“Stan!”_

 

* * *

 

“Stan!”

Stan jolted, jumping up in one swift movement, the seat he had been on clattered to the side as the floor bobbed below his feet. His heart thudded a steady beat against his chest as he heaved in gulps of the sea air, confused and startled by the sudden change in scenery as he gripped tight to the railing to stop himself from pitching over.

A snort of amusement came from nearby and he looked around, finding his brother with his back turned to him. He frowned at the image, something seeming off about the entire scenario. He was sure he’d heard his voice calling to him…

Perhaps Ford was being tactful for once, having noticed his distress and woken him up, but now for his benefit was pretending not to have seen anything.

He took a steadying breath, hand rubbing at his chest as he glanced about the small boat he was on, let the rolling waves calm him as the moon rose overhead.

_Just a dream…_

He chuckled to himself, running a hand through his hair as he took another glance at his brother, leaning as far as he could over the railing as he scribbled in his journal.

_What on earth are you doing dreaming about things like that when you’re living the dream, you moron?_

Stan sighed, leaning back against the wall as his eyes skimmed the scene, his brother hard at work, the sea beneath their feet and the world to be explored. He grinned despite himself, the remnants of the dream fading to nothingness as he stood back and watched the world go by.

His eyes flickered over the shoreline, scaling an ominous looking lighthouse until his eyes reached the glass dome at the top.

A small pulsing orange light twinkled back at him, a small spark of recognition flaring up the more he stared at it. Something was calling to him, seeking him out.

Reminding him of the truth.

_Wait. I never made amends with Ford- how am I out here- I shouldn’t be here._

The nightmare burst back behind his eyelids, the creature- whatever it was looming over the boat from afar, his brother’s screams. He had to get the boat to shore.

The light vanished suddenly as if the stars themselves had gone out all at once. The boat listed to one side and he hit the deck with a solid thud, the wind knocked out of him as he found himself staring closely at wood. A loud surprised yelp and a soft thud was all he had to tell him his brother had done the same.

Not that he seemed overly perturbed by it. Stan stood up on shaking legs as Ford walked towards him, dusting himself off without a word. “Sixer, we need to get to shore-”

His words caught in his throat as his brother walked through him, completely ignoring his presence as he slipped through him unseen. His breathing hitched, a panicked bubble lodging in his airways as he fumbled for his chest, a cold chasm opening up as if Ford had taken something with him as he passed, his lungs refusing to operate through the sudden emptiness.

_Am I- Did he just…Am I dead?_

A hissing chuckle slipped through the wind towards him, making him shudder. He could feel the wind biting at his back, trailing feather light across the lines that crisscrossed his shoulder, toying with him as he stood there, frozen in terror.

He pulled himself out of the thought, eyes going back to Ford as they adjusted to the gloom.

Whatever happened, he had to get him out of this mess.

His eyes scanned the water, wondering how much time he had and in a moment of heart stopping dread he noticed a glistening fin slowly slink back below the surface.

It was already here.

“Sixer! Sixer, listen to me. You need to get back to shore!” He stomped forward, his hand going to slam down on his brother’s shoulder-

And passed straight through it, stumbling forward with the force he had exerted.

The laugh rang out again, bubbling like a brook, cold and sharp and painful to his ears. “Shut up, shut up! Whatever you are, shut up!”

He didn’t have time for this. His eyes skirted the water, watching as the tendrils gradually one by one rippled through the water, approaching the boat slowly, softly as if tenderly reaching for it.

Stan breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Ford take in a quick hushed breath in recognition.

_He’s noticed! Thank god, he’s noticed! Now get this boat out of here, Ford!_

Just as Ford seemed to grasp the predicament he’d found himself in there was a loud thunk, a dull metallic noise that rang through the cove and reverberated in the silent air around them.

And then a burst of pure blinding white light hit them.

Stan winced, raising his arm up to shield himself from the onslaught.

Through hooded eyes he saw Ford stumble, heard the flashlight hit the deck and roll with a splash off the side of the boat.

“Stan?”

Stan blinked as Ford called his name, hopeful that he had finally seen him and yet when he looked Ford was staring blearily at the lighthouse. He managed to follow his gaze, hissing painfully at the glow and saw a small dark figure right in its centre.

_Is that me? No… it can’t be. How am I here and there-?_

Ford groaned, shaking his head as he tried to stare back into the darkness, tried to catch sight of the large creature once more. He rubbed his eyes profusely, his expression perturbed as he struggled to see through the blindness the bright light had caused.

A terrible sinking feeling took over Stan. He could feel the cold of the waves sinking into his core, as if they were already dragging him down, pulling them into the depths of despair.

_Oh god, I did this, didn’t I? I did this to you. It’s all my fault.  
I left you blind, you’d already seen the creature and I gave it more chance to see you instead of the other way around._

As quickly as it had appeared the light vanished, leaving them in the perpetual thick darkness once more. He could just about see Ford’s outline before him, see the boat in a half vision as the light left images dancing against his retinas.

He couldn’t see it but he could hear it slithering around, sliding ever closer, drawing ever nearer to the two lost figures on their toy boat. His entire body was tingling, oversensitive, every breath of air felt like something latching on to him, every gust seemed to wrap around him, trying to trip him up and from the small whispers he could make out Ford was feeling the same.

Blinded by light and then blinded by darkness with a creature bearing down on them.

_God, what did you do to deserve this, Sixer?  
What did you do to deserve me ruining everything as usual?_

Ford stumbled as the darkness took over, gripping the railing tightly. Stan tried to help him, his arms going through him at every interval they touched.

He growled helplessly, his fist slamming on the railing.

_It’s not fair! Just let me help!  
Let me do something! _ **Anything!**

The boat rocked abruptly, throwing them both off course away from one another, Ford still disorientated by the blinding light. Their craft juddered to a halt a few seconds later but it became too still, too silent, as if the very waves had stopped their rocking.

Stan slowly took a step back towards his brother, the atmosphere becoming thick and oppressive and hard to move through as he reached out a hand once more, ever hopeful that this time he’d be able to help.

He flinched as the darkness became tangible, his hand hitting something cold, wet and slippery. He reeled back, his sight slowly getting accustomed to the gloom until he saw the thick tentacle that was barring his path. He gulped as it wrapped around the deck between them, Ford still unknowing of the danger as he struggled to see.

“Sixer!”

It was as if whatever held them had suddenly decided to give Stan a reprieve, Ford’s head snapping up at the shout to look him dead in the eye, his mouth falling open in shock.

“S-Stan?”

“Sixer, watch out!”

Ford finally caught sight of the thing between them, a curse rumbling out of him as he stumbled back a step, the tentacle tightening its hold on the ship.

The floor began to creak and crack beneath them, more and more tentacles joining the first to split the boat in two, effectively cutting them off from one another.

Stan glanced up, eyes drawing away from the wreckage to frantically seek out any form of escape.

Everything froze.

Stan could hear his breath whistling through his ears, growing faster and faster and yet nothing moved as if the sands of time had decided to stop falling. The roar of the wind and the waves was gone, the ship stopped creaking and groaning beneath their feet.

His heart stopped.

He couldn’t seem to move a muscle.

He couldn’t turn his head away.

His eyes focused on gleaming teeth, row upon row of sharp hooked needles ready to catch on any flesh they could grasp on to. Above them, sickly glowing eyes, teaming with revolting delight as they hovered behind Ford’s head. The gaping maw stretching around him, tendrils sliding out around it to seize him and drag him to the ocean floor.

_No! Not again! I can’t lose you again!_

“Ford, behind you!”

Instead of turning, Ford continued to stare at him, his hand raising towards him as Stan struggled to get closer, the barrier of scales that had formed between them impeding his lunge forward. His fingernails gouged and tore, his feet kicked and fought but it stood fast, stopping him from getting to his twin. Whenever he got footing, he seemed to slip, whenever he managed to pull himself up, the tangle would trap him, wasting time as he tried to pull away again.

“Stan! Help me!”

“Ford!”

The last image he saw was his brother’s terrified expression as the boat gave way to the barrage with a final resounding crack.

He was thrown backwards, his brother’s screams echoing through his skull as he hit the water.

He gasped, hearing Ford’s gurgling attempts at breath as he kicked out, trying to find his way to him.

Water poured into his mouth as it opened, his eyes wide and searching as he scanned the debris. But he couldn’t keep his mind on what he was searching for as he choked and spluttered, unable to draw breath, unable to get the water out of his system. Darkness was forming at the edges of his vision as he tried to stay awake, tried to move, to force himself towards the surface but his movements took him nowhere, stuck in place, his brother being dragged below and the air so tantalisingly close above him.

The water shifted around him, the laughter that he had heard before bubbling through the water.

A voice hissed in his ear, seeping in cold and cloying like the water around him as his vision tunnelled and the murky water burned down his throat.

_If it was the other way around, he might have actually had a chance to save you._

_What on earth makes you think you can save him?_

_You should just join us, rot in the sea where you belong._

_…I’ll be waiting, Stan Pines._

 

* * *

 

 

 

Stan heaved as he awoke, coughing and spluttering across the age old desk. He sat for a few seconds, panting, his body wracked with tremors as sweat beaded across his brow. He blearily looked around the room, the copious notes arranged by creatures, the various exhibit materials dotted here and there for his next tour. He let the smell of leather and paper and salt that permeated the room, and had for so long that it was ingrained in his very uniform, ground him and remind him that this time, this time he was home. This time he was awake.

His hands gripped tightly to the leather seat, sighing as he leant his head back, still trying to get his breathing back under control. He found himself wincing, rubbing at the tight band of muscle that was struggling to loosen around his chest, as he tried to steady himself, centre himself.

“I am getting too old for these nightmares now. My heart’s not going to last through them much longer.”

He rubbed at his shoulder with a wince, the cold still making the old scar painful whenever it could, but he didn’t really mind. It was a constant reminder of what had happened, what he had to do.

A constant reminder that there was some truth to the nightmares even as he brushed them aside whenever dawn’s rays began to filter through to him.

He scowled, leaning forward again on to the desk, his head in his hands. He couldn’t help the small pitiful noise that left him. He hated sleeping, hated giving in to the pull even though he knew he needed the rest to get Ford back. He liked to leave it, to work and work and work until his body gave out and pulled him into blissful darkness. If he let himself sleep before that point it was always the same, his body and mind tormenting him for what had happened.

Tormented him for not getting him back yet.

How long had it been? Too long, that’s all he knew. There were grey hairs sprouting, bones growing weary as he trudged up and down stone steps. He’d watched people in the town grow up as he took over Ford’s life, trying to get him back without the town growing suspicious.

And all the while Ford was still stuck somewhere, lost and waiting to be found.

_Or he could be-_

“No.” Stan bit out, teeth gritting and fingernails digging into his scalp. “No, we’re not going there tonight. I will find him and he’ll be fine.”

“…He has to be fine. You have to be… right, Sixer?”

There was that odd click again, one that happened sporadically and still after all this time seemingly at random. Stan snapped his head up, watching light filter through the symbols on the ceiling as the lighthouse bulb abruptly came to life.

He stumbled up the steps towards it, hands flitting through familiar motions as he reached the bulb, trying to figure out the correct sequence to keep it burning. There was a series of panels and symbols that adorned the base of it that Stan had discovered not long after coming to that first morning, now visible at all times with the low level lights he had installed around the room so as not to ever be caught unaware again.

_“Stan…”_

The voice called to him, just like it did through his dreams. He glanced up at the glass, watching the light pierce through the fog outside as if it was a physical presence, watched it cut, burn a hole through it to find the waters below.

He gulped once, cursing himself for listening before ignoring the voice as he went back to his work.

It would not do well to dwell on that familiar voice.

Or any of the other myriad of voices that accompanied it.

He turned his back on the window, feeling the heat from the bulb as he leant below it, still trying to fiddle, trying to do anything that would stop it from sparking out at a moment’s notice. It was easier that way, easier to not look out of the window and see the shapes that shifted through the fog, hear the other voices that called out to him to join them.

At first he had assumed he was seeing things, when darker shadows seemed to move in the gloom that the light didn’t reach. When voices seemed to lull him, lead him to the edge of the balcony before he snapped out of it all.

Blamed it on little sleep, on paranoia and the weird creature he kept seeing in his dreams when he caved.

But their mother had always warned them about what was in the darkness, waiting patiently for any signs of weakness.

“ _Stan…”_

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time.” Stan snapped, eyes glaring at the glass before going back to the light just as it died. He slumped back with an angry yell, eyes to the ceiling in a silent plea, the voices dying around him.

_“Stan, can you hear me? I’m stuck, I need you to… please…”_

“I’m trying, Ford, I promise I’m trying.”

“ _I know. I know you are, you’re doing great.”_

Stan’s breath hitched at the praise, unable to respond as the soft consoling voice made his eyes water and a small choked noise escape him. It wasn’t fair! He so wanted it to be real but that meant that everything else had to be real too. Couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t pretend.

He’d already resigned himself to that though. He’d resigned himself to that fate years ago, no matter how hard he tried to kid himself otherwise.

And he hated it with every fibre of his being because letting the voices in, letting them entice and snare him and just outright know just as he did that he believed in their existence gave them some kind of hold over him. Granted them entrance, granted them a small semblance of shape and form that they clung hungrily to. But he couldn’t not believe in them, couldn’t not hope for their arrival every time the light flickered on.

Otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this.

Because knowing they existed, knowing they were there and that the light drew them in gave him hope that Ford could do the same.

He rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing down as his body sunk down further.

_God, I’m such a mess._

Who would ever believe him if he told them that a lighthouse could save his brother?

They’d say he’d gone mad with grief. Hearing things that weren’t there, seeing things that gave him hope to carry on.

_Reckless. Pitiful. He needs help, that one_.

He knew it, he always had, and that’s why he struggled on without them.

No one would believe him, so why try? Just get the job done.

Get Ford back. That’s what he had to do.

Prove to them that he wasn’t- prove to himself that he wasn’t broken.

_I’m right! I have to be right!_

_I wouldn’t just conjure up that voice… would I?_

He shuddered as his thoughts went bleak, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the bulb.

He hated the nightmares, hated that between his day job and his work on the lighthouse that his eyes would sometimes drift, his eyelids droop and his head would fill with different scenarios, each one another fruitless endeavour in which he couldn’t save his brother from his watery fate.

But there were others that he hated more.

The plausible ones. The ones where a light was just a light and a boat was just a boat on a stormy sea.

The ones that were the most impossible to him, the ones so plausible that they could never happen in the real world.

The ones where he’d never seen a monster. Where a storm had rushed in and the light of the lighthouse hadn’t been enough for Ford to steer away from the rocks.

Or times where he had never got the lantern to work in the first place.

Where he had passed out from his burns and woken in the morning, running down to the shore to try and find his brother.

Only to come across debris strewn across the beach. Shattered wood fragments and tattered sails lodged between rocks.

Where a familiar hand lay visible, cold and grey and lifeless, buried beneath the largest parts of what remained of the ship as his legs gave out beneath him.

The painful nauseating grief as he read the word Stan’O’War above his brother’s listless corpse.

_Gone. Gone and there’s no hope. You can’t save him. He’s dead and gone- there’s no way he could have survived._

_There’s nothing you can do._

“Stop it. Stop it! We’re not doing this!” Stan roared, snarling as he stood up, his heart racing.

It didn’t matter how plausible those dreams seemed. That had never happened.

There had been no wreckage, no body, no anything. Just the quiet sea calmly swaying as if it had never taken everything away from him that night.

Nothing to prove his brother had ever gone out to sea other than his distinct absence.

And there had been nothing since, nothing had washed up on shore, nothing to find when he had plucked up the courage to go out and search the area he had seen him disappear in, not even the monster.

Though he had never plucked up the nerve to go at night, he’d never been able to.

Besides, he always reasoned with himself, that would mean leaving the lighthouse unattended.

And he couldn’t do that.

What if it lit whilst he wasn’t there, his one chance to get Ford back gone because he was trying something else?

No, better to stay and wait and solve the puzzle here than that.

And no matter what anyone else said, he _knew_ there was something lurking in the darkness.

Knew it wasn’t his imagination when things pitter pattered up and down the lighthouse steps.

Knew that the figures that danced across the mirrored water, pale and dainty and reflecting the light were real when he blinked and they continued to flit across his retinas.

Knew that he couldn’t dream up the way the air grew static, charged and the briny sea breeze smell vanished to sharp tangy smoke.

He knew it was all real, it _had_ to be _real_.

_I’m not that good. I might be able to trick gullible tourists but I’m not that imaginative._

He knew he was tempting fate, knew the world would condemn him for a madman but he’d never stop. He couldn’t let the doubts lingering at the edges of his peripheral ensnare him and drag him down into grief.

There was nothing to grieve, he’d find him. He’d find Ford and everything would be right with the world again.

Ford was alive and he’d rescue him from the clutches of the monster that held him, no matter what it took.

And even if none of it was real, he couldn’t stop.

He didn’t know what he would do if he gave in to the voices.

Didn’t know what would happen if he gave in to the grief and despair.

He glared again, out of the glass dome as he stared out to sea.

They’d always been taught the monster under the bed existed.

And he’d always promised his brother that he’d fight whatever tried to hurt them, regardless of how big and bad it seemed.

A childish promise, but then again, Stan always had held on to them.

_“Stan…”_

“Don’t you worry, Sixer, I’m coming for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: RAN IS DESTROYING ME WITH THE ART AND I AM BUZZING FOR YOU ALL TO SEE ;A; SHOWER THEM WITH LOVE.  
> ALSO I AM MEAN CAUSE I REMEMBER WHINING AT THEM ABOUT STAN’S NIGHTMARES AND THIS IS THE RESULT AND I AM NOT SORRY AT ALL. 
> 
> ok ill stop but seriously nightmare fics I still have some in the woodworks.


	4. Navigating The Void - Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Ran’s art is included! ♥ ITS AMAZING ALL OF IT. So this was all meant to be one but it got huge so this one shot got split into three… it’ll make sense later! (Warnings for panic attacks and allusions to drowning)

_Where am I?_

The man frowned, a struggle of a motion, his body refusing to co-operate, eyelids far too heavy to open. In fact, everything felt… heavy, lethargic, draining him with the smallest of movements. Even thinking was hard, his head full of dense fog that refused to budge as his synapses tried to fire.

_Am I falling? Floating?_

If he had had enough energy he might have panicked, might have wondered what had happened to him that his brain wasn’t working as it should be. As it was, he didn’t have the strength, didn’t have the willpower to more that push half-heartedly against the impenetrable barriers inside his head that rose whenever he tried to question anything.

It was as if something had sapped all the bad from him and left him in this peaceful daze, floating on air, devoid of anything but the blissful black void.

_There’s definitely no ground… I don’t even know which way is up or down… does it matter though?_

It really was much easier to just drift aimlessly than to worry.

He smiled softly. Something seemed to push towards him, just a small motion, teasing and light as if someone was running a hand through his hair, an undertow of sorts fluttering by him. The questioning thoughts pulled away with it, leaving him hollow but serene.

_No, I guess it doesn’t matter…_

He didn’t know how long he drifted in that state, time had no meaning as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Though there really wasn’t all that much difference between the two states, other than a sudden thought crossing his mind that reminded him that he was real, that he could move, albeit however slightly.

_Wait. How did I get here? Where was I before this?_

But then the weird cold sensation would overtake him again. Bubbles would fizzle at his fingertips as if something circled him though he couldn’t open his eyes to check. The swirling movements would catch him off guard, drag him out of his head as his body got caught in it and scattered the questions along with the current.

“Shhhh, you’re safe. He’ll come get both of us soon.”

_Ye..s… everything is fine…_

He didn’t know who this ‘he’ was or what was even talking to him, if anything was talking to him at all. All he knew was that any worry, any concern fled with it, a soft warmth emanating instead from his core to counteract the cold flow still spinning around him.

“You just have to wait. Wait and see.”

_Yes, he’ll be here soon…_

And with that the darkness came again, lukewarm and insipid but oh so welcoming.

Nothing could hurt him here.

And with just another cold undertow, the thoughts of even the voice and the mysterious ‘he’ were once again taken far out of his reach.

There was nothing in the void to remind him that this world was not his own.

* * *

_Who… am I?_

The question came like a punch to the gut. The omnipresent being seemed to have left him for a moment, his head clearing enough for the question to trickle through the lingering fog.

The fear of that particular unknown broke down the walls that had been put up in his head as if they were only paper, the fog becoming ice littering the floor of his head as everything shattered into panic.

He opened his eyes, his heart stuttering in his chest as it did nothing, reality as dark and empty as the space behind his eyelids that blinking was meaningless.

_Who am I? Where am I? What is this place? I haven’t always been here, have I?_

It was suddenly difficult to breathe. Loneliness seeped in, dread and anxiety at the sheer nothingness of it all clawed at his throat, yet he couldn’t scream, the sound bubbling into a similar nothingness when he opened his mouth.

He could feel liquid about him, feel the closeness of it all, that he struggled to move against as solid weights in wet unyielding clothing.

And yet he was fine, undamaged, just unable to move, unable to scream, unable to breathe as water poured into his open mouth.

Unable to do anything he desperately needed to do.

This was a prison cell.

_Why am I here? What did I do?_

Nothing answered him.

_Please- please, I need to- I need something. Is any of this even real? Just show me- please-_

A light flickered above his head. Tiny and distance but something in the darkness.

It swirled as if caught in an eddy, mesmerising and clear, a beacon that burned away the fog that resided, burned away the fear and the doubt.

Someone- or something had answered him, leaving him warm and hopeful, his arm reaching out towards it, cupping the tiny spark between his fingers as his mouth twitched into a smile.

The light vanished. His movements ceased as the darkness surrounded him once more.

“See? What was all that fuss about?”

The cold came again, quiet and unassuming. It drifted over him like a mask that sapped the warmth that the light had given him. His arm fell to his side again, heavy and unyielding, even as his heart hammered and his eyes widened, trying to see through the gloom.

A different light fell onto him, yellow and glowing it seemed to hold him in its grasp, aloft and unmoving, caught in its snare. Wherever it moved, his head followed, the smile dropping to a blank expression as his eyes glazed over.

“That’s much better. I told you, didn’t I? That you had nothing to worry about.”

_Told… me…?_

“Yes. I called out and you answered. Now we just have to wait until the time comes. But don’t worry, you’re nice and safe here.”

_Safe… yes, of course…_

He felt his eyelids drooping as the light swayed before him, the fog drifting back through his skull to take up residence again amongst his dwindling thoughts.

“It’s not like any of this is real anyway. You’re just dreaming.”

_Just a dream…_

He nodded along, or an much as he could when his head and body felt like lead and it was just so much easier to give in, to give up and accept the calming words being spoken.

A soft laugh echoed around him, the ice shards in each small sound slipping through the cracks in the peaceful shell that was being wound around him.

_Wait- I still don’t know. Who am I?_

The darkness didn’t wait for him to welcome it, as it drove back into his skull. Eclipsed the thoughts and the questions and the small almost spark of something vaguely human that he had mustered up again.

_No! No-_ **Please** _! I was so close. So close- don’t make me forget again, please- I don’t want to forget again-_

The inky water drove it all away, stole his thoughts and his words, stole the scattered remnants of his being that fell away like sand to the bottom of the ocean floor, until he was just confused and relaxed again, a puppet on a string, waiting unperturbed and aimless.

“That’s it. Rest. Don’t worry, you’ve got a part to play in all this too.”

The laugh sounded again though this time the ice bounced off of him, swayed him in his small bubble but otherwise left his mind drifting away.

“You’re the key.”

_A key…?_

The soft words faded as soon as they had been uttered, in one ear and out the other with little comprehension.

Something changed with the light though.

He remembered the light next time he awoke.

* * *

He didn’t know how long it was until the light flickered on again.

He didn’t know how it reached him in his cocoon of solitude, buried far far below.

All he knew was that it _did_ and that when it did, it felt like he could breathe again, a weigh vanishing from his chest. The world came into focus, his fingers twitched and the darkness seemed just that little bit less all consuming.

All he needed was the light.

He stared upwards at it, head lolling side to side as it moved above him until he started to realise it was getting closer. He felt light as a feather, no longer a solid statue that had sunk to the bottom of the abyss, now he was floating higher and higher as the light grew bigger.

_Looks like I know which way is up now._

A bubble of airy giggles streamed out of him at the sudden realisation, the light catching each glistening bauble as it escaped his throat and mesmerised him more. His fingers twitched to touch them, reaching out to swirl them further, small mystifying light sources that felt warm to the touch and swum further and further out from him as he created waves with his movements.

_Fascinating._

He may not know his name, who he had been or where he had come from, but his brain still stuttered into life as he continued his ascent. He could feel the grey matter making up for its time consumed by viscous fog, asking a million questions a second, sparking up odd theories behind his eyes, though nothing seemed quite as important as letting the light continue to drag him from the darkness. He let his mind ponder as his eyes stayed locked on the light, as his body was pulled upwards without any help from himself.

For some reason he felt like he would only hinder the upwards momentum if he moved.

The light split above him, a beacon that seemed to bend and sway with smaller droplets of light bleeding out around it. But the fragmentation didn’t really worry him, only intrigued, kept him coherent, lucid. Kept him thinking, wondering on its origins and patterns.

His mind trailed to the other light, the yellow, soft glow that calmed him down whenever he struggled against the hold the darkness had on him.

But it was difficult to keep hold of that trail, sand dribbling out of his hands as his mind speculated on whether he had imagined it, maybe he’d caught a reflection of this light instead. It was so easy to believe, his eyebrows furrowing as he pushed the image away. It can’t have been real, it didn’t feel real, not like this light did.

That small light would never have pierced the darkness, not like this white light did, it didn’t have the power.

_But the voice…_

A cold shiver swept through him, a sensation that felt oddly familiar and yet disturbingly foreign against the warmth wrapping around him like a blanket as the light bathed him. It was like a word on the tip of his tongue, a sudden sense of foreboding with no cause in sight. He had heard something in the darkness, a shape blacker than black moving behind the odd yellow luminescence as soothing cold swept away his distressing thoughts…

But then the image slipped away, evaporating with the last dregs of the mist, behind his eyelids.

_Must have been me, trying to make sense of where I was.  
The brain does that, doesn’t it? Makes up things to make situations seem more conceivable…_

Before he could ponder it much more, he felt the dragging motion grow faster, like there was a hook lodged into the back of his coat and he was being reeled in, up and up. The light above him was growing bigger and more distorted with every second, spreading out and rippling. The darkness around him suddenly wasn’t all that dark anymore, the ink shifting to royal blue interspersed with flecks of light that made patches brighter than others.

And just as swiftly, he hit the light, felt it shatter around him in a moment of dazzling white.

He flinched, hands going up to cover his face as his head and arms seemed to burst through something. It didn’t feel cold or warm on the other side, much the same as the darkness and yet he could _feel_ a significant difference to his surroundings.

He chanced a peek through his fingers, disappointment welling up as the bright flickering light seemed gone from his immediate vision but curiosity soon crushed it, his eyes widening to take in everything around him as he still seemed to drift upwards.

_I was in… water…?_

His feet skimmed the surface, which rippled as drops cascaded off of him. The dragging motion had ceased in its persistent tugging, leaving him hovering a few inches above the waterline. The myriad of sparkling lights he had seen from the other side now made sense as the water flowed and crashed beneath his feet even though they no longer held the brilliant light that had been there only moments before. The foam was light, the moon dusting it all in a silver sheen but it wasn’t the moonlight that had shone strikingly down on him, cutting sharply through the gloom to wake him from his slumber.

He watched the waves until they hit the shoreline, listened to them crash against the beach before following the tiny pinprick glows through windows up to the night sky full of stars above them, but not one seemed like the light that had dragged him from the depths.

Part of him questioned how a light could even do that, how he didn’t feel cold or seem to need to breathe, nor coughing up water that should have choked him long ago. But the much larger portion of his brain was too busy _thinking_ , too busy exploring all the nooks and crannies to figure out how much he knew before he started to focus on the very large portion of things he didn’t.

That and the last time he had gotten panicked, he’d seized up. It had all gone cold and his thoughts had slipped away from him until his body hummed at the bliss of ignorance. He remembered that much at least, even if he didn’t know what had suddenly sent him into the spiralling dread.

_Stay calm, stay analytical, don’t want to shut down again._

And if he was complete honest with himself, this was far better than the perpetual darkness that sapped his strength and mind, no matter how tranquil and safe it appeared.

No, he really did want to explore far more than he was willing to let his mind race ahead into overthinking.

He shivered, not exactly cold but the warmth the light had bestowed on him when it drew him upwards was slowly leaving him hollow once more. He shuddered more violently, feeling himself drop slightly, his body growing ever so perceivably heavier. He looked about him again, this time more frantically, casting for a sign, a sudden thought to help him out of his predicament.

_Please! I’m not ready yet. Don’t make me go back!_

The light pulsed back to life, bright and blinding.

He raised his hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the welcome onslaught. The action felt oddly familiar, an unexpected flood of confusion overwhelming him as memories tried to flit before his eyes. Not much of it made sense, the emotions in discordance with those he felt at that moment as his body started to hover again, pulled upwards into the wind’s currents.

Relief coursed through him as the sea was left far below, warmth spreading to his fingertips, his core even, as he was blinded, unable to adjust quite yet.

So why was there a sudden lurching feeling from his memories? As if the light heralded something else… something far worse that waited in the darkness.

_Can’t be this light. Must be another, something I don’t remember yet…_

The thought could wait, that was for sure. He had a lot of things to figure out, why he was here at all being one of them, and all of which he didn’t think could be answered without his continued ascent.

So he let the worry vanish, took back hold of the childish curiosity that had sparked up. He pulled his hands up, cupping the light between his fingers. It had grown less dazzling within seconds, still tugging him up and facing directly at him but it was dim, as if something was missing. Or perhaps it was the building giving him that opinion. The lighthouse gleamed, imposing and robust against the cliff edge but as he looked down below at the distant waves, he was sure that the glimmering glow only seemed to be directed at the tiniest portion.

_I’m sure that’s not how a lighthouse is supposed to work…_

The glass was suddenly ahead of him before he thought much more, drawing him straight into the bulb and popping him back out into a vaguely recognisable room. The bulb gleamed back at him, a static drone filling the air even as it glowed fainter and fainter with every passing second. He stayed inside its small circle, arms raised towards it as he absorbed what warmth he could before it escaped him again.

_I’ve been here before… it looks different though._

“What was that?”

There was a shuffling sound nearby that made him spin, a quite dizzying feat he hadn’t known he’d be able to do and he almost continued the rotation more than he had intended from his hovering state. A young man stood outside of the light, cast in thick shadows behind the bulb. All he could see really was the glint of his eyes reflecting the glow, which were narrowed suspiciously as he cast his gaze about him.

He waited, holding his breath even though he had no need to breathe until the man shook his head, going back to his work behind the bulb.

“Whatever, you don’t have time to be hearing things, remember? Last time you stopped working, the bulb went out as soon as you ran to the balcony. Gotta figure out how to keep it lit this time.”

_Yes! Please do!_

He beamed, excitement thrumming through him as the man worked. He tried to crouch down, irritation looming as he found it hard to navigate but he was able to fumble around enough to see what the man was working on. There were two books beside him, both pushed forward so they caught enough of the glow and filled with scrawling minute notes that caught his attention. One was left open, a reference that the man paused to look to every so often, filled to the brim with symbols and questionable meanings beside them, more plausible ones underscored repeatedly. There was a small jolt of recognition as he glanced down at his hands, remembering drawing out those sigils one by one in precise detail in a sudden moment of clarity.

_Is that mine? It looks like it’s mine._

He went to pick it up, his hand slipping through its entirety disconcertingly, the pages not even fluttering at his approach. He gulped, pulling his hand back to grip his wrist nervously as it hit him just how little he could affect his surroundings, how his sense of touch was inadequate and lacking.

The light flickered, the man cursed and all thoughts vanished as he turned back to it with worry.

He gave a sigh of relief as it soldiered on, righting itself. He banished the sudden wave of panic to the pit of his stomach as he turned to the man’s other book in the hopes it gave some answers.

He frowned, perplexed but intrigued by the pages the man flipped through. The symbols had been copied hastily and marked against where they lay along the flooring of the bulb. There were tables upon tables, row upon row of each symbol with crosses against each one as if he was going trial and error through every possible sequence. The page turned again and the tables changed, now filled with sea levels and moon phases, weather charts and barometer readings.

His eyes widened as he took in the extent of the task the man had laid out before him. Not a day had been missed on the readings and not only that, but it seemed that from the ticks beside each one he had tested out every sequence of symbols on every day that he could see. He didn’t know exactly what the man was trying to do but whatever it was must be important for him to put that much effort into it.

_Whoever you are, you must be a hard worker. Do you ever take a break?_

The man’s head snapped up again, jumping from his spot to his feet in one swift movement, his arms and legs shifting into a fighting stance with little preamble. “Alright, that’s enough. Whatever you are-”

The light died abruptly seconds later, leaving them both in darkness. His heart thudded as the warmth slowly began to loosen again, his fingertips and toes starting to numb. The young man cursed loudly, he could no longer see him but he could hear him rifling around.

There was a sudden clunk that made him wince, an intake of breath before an explosion. “Son of a-”

_Please be careful!_

The scolding tsk left him before he could stop it. All movement and sound ceased for just a moment, as if time stood still. He could feel the numbness spreading up his arms, a tingle of fear slipping through his spine as there was a soft downwards tug that he tried to ignore.

There was the shuffling noise again, his minds spiral snapping back to attention as he squinted through the gloom.

A match crackled to life, a small lamp lighting as the man got back to his feet and raised it aloft, face once again suspicious but now brightly lit against the rest of the room.

His heart thudded in his chest as recognition, pure and unconstrained, raced through his skull.

The man continued to glare, rubbing at the side of his head with a pained grimace but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the sour expression. He looked older, different maybe, but there was something there that he knew conclusively, a name on the tip of his tongue that couldn’t help bursting forth.

_Stanley!_

He preened as Stan blinked, the glare slackening, his mouth falling open. He raised the lamp above his head, turning this way and that as he looked for the source of the noise.

Or that’s what he hoped anyway. He could feel himself starting to sink again, the warmth starting to leave his chest. He glanced at his feet, watching them hit the metal even if he felt nothing, before snapping back to Stan, part gleeful and part urgent. He didn’t have much time and he really wasn’t ready yet to forget when the world was so tantalisingly close again.

_Stanley! Stan? Can you hear me?_

Stan’s face shut down, the light left his eyes in a way that made him gasp. Somehow the look bit into him, cold and sharp, in a way that nothing so far had been able to. Stan stared out to sea for a moment, looking through him, his teeth biting down painfully on his lip as if lost in some horrible thoughts that made his heart stutter and his hand reach out to help him. Before he could move though, Stan had forced his eyes away, back to the bulb and the books as if nothing had happened, a heavy sigh leaving him. It was like the breath in his non-existent lungs had suddenly been forced out of him, ghosting out in a trail that Stan shuddered in, his hand coming up to rub at his arm doubtfully.

“God damn wind, I’m not falling for it this time.”

_Oh._

There wasn’t much warmth left in him now, the water was calling to him again, pulling him down. But it didn’t matter as much as the fact that Stan couldn’t hear him.

He’d been so hopeful that he could be heard from Stan’s actions but perhaps it had all been wishful thinking, hoping that someone would be able to answer all his questions.

Of course it couldn’t be that easy.

It was just the wind that had made Stan jump.

Just the wind that had made him shudder and draw into himself.

He glanced back up as Stan moved once more, another bone weary sigh echoing through the room as he walked past him to the door onto the balcony. His hand slowly crawled up to the glass as he whispered words meant for no one but himself.

And yet _he_ heard them, and they resonated through the muffling hollow cold to burrow into his heart and spark up new exciting potentials.

“Sorry, Ford, looks like it’s not tonight… but I promise, I’ll get you home safe and sound soon.”

_Is that me? Am I Ford?_

His head vanished below the metal floor as Stan spun around again, the small motion bringing with it a new nugget of hope. His descent became faster. His arms fell to his sides, his legs hanging limply as he became listless once more, solid and heavy as he plummeted towards the roaring waves.

His mind however was still coherent, running through everything it could as if it knew that soon enough it wouldn’t be able to, that soon he would be lost yet again, scattered foam cresting the waters. But he had to hold on to the kernels of knowledge he had been given, wrap each one safe and securely away.

_Ford? Stan…Ford?_

He’d remembered the light the first time, it wasn’t a surprise when he’d seen it again, perhaps if he was careful he could do the same with these memories. Keep them buried where the light could reach them, where the darkness couldn’t touch.

_Stanford. Ford. Yes, that sounds right._

He smiled as the fog returned, the cold ebbing over him and wrapping him up into his silent, serene cocoon once more.

_I know who I am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE GUSHED SO MUCH ABOUT THE ANGLER DRAWING AND NOW I GET TO USE IT DO YOU KNOW HOW ECSTATIC I AM.  
> *coughs* I’m just going to melt in a puddle. tired ill but very happy little puddle.  
> Also very very happy that people found the nightmare fic vivid ♥ that made my day xx


	5. Navigating The Void - Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Ran’s art is included! ♥ Part 2/3 for this particular oneshot! (also the art is amazing please gush at Ran, you have no idea.) Warnings: Drowning, nightmares.

The light came on again and again.

For Ford it could have been only moments or sheer eons between each glimmer of hope, the dark hole that was his unwanted home a strange sensory deprivation that took away all knowledge of time and awareness.

If it wasn’t for Stan’s constant presence whenever he awoke and climbed up and up to the lantern room from his dreary slumber, he could have theorised that centuries had passed, the sea unchanging and the old abandoned lighthouse a solid but aged existence.

He would theorise it in fact whilst he ascended, scared that once he reached the top a new face may present itself and he’d have lost his connection to the living world.

Just another ghost that haunted and whispered through the winds to the keeper of the lighthouse.

But there he’d be.

Stan.

Ford couldn’t help the soft smile whenever he saw him, the sigh of relief that he was still there, still trying to reach him. His memories grew with every visit. Small snippets, nothing big. His name, his face from a photograph that Stan had put on the desk beside him, his research when he grew bold and shuffled out of the light, descending to the room below to glean more information. The light still filtered through, if he stood in the right spot he could feel it spotlighting on to him, warm and bright and filling up all the hollow cold edges that had been building from the darkness.

There was something nagging at the back of his skull though. The pictures that contained him and his brother were worn and grey, the face so very aged in comparison when he looked up at his brother.

Obviously they hadn’t spoken in quite some time.

The newer photo of himself that Stan had propped up showed another person, a familiar face that he couldn’t put anything to other than the letter ‘F’ and the soft sound of music. His brother was nowhere in sight in that photo, or any other that made its way up to the little office that Stan had made for himself below the lantern room, and for some reason he knew that it was not Stan that had taken these photos.

There was something else in his peripheral as well, just barely there on the tips of his vision and thoughts. The heat of anger, the red fizzling bloom of disappointment and arguments, along with something grey and sharply bitter tasting that oddly felt like betrayal and resentment.

But it was all duller, not just because he couldn’t remember but also because it felt so long ago now. His brother was here, he was struggling and striving all to get him back, he knew that now, hearing his self-loathing words and bitter desperate pleas. He fought and bent over backwards to try and get the light to stay on when, from what Ford could gather, its visible panels had no discernible controls and still Stan never gave up on it, gave his all at every possible moment and mumbled words of encouragement to himself. That tonight would be the night, that he’d get Ford back and it didn’t matter what he thought of him as long as he was back safe and sound. All of this was for him, to bring him back to the world of the living.

He might not know what they had argued about all that time ago but he couldn’t really stay mad at him watching him fight with every fibre of his being.

Perhaps his thoughts would change, but he hoped he’d remember all this once he learned the truth, whatever that may be.

Besides, he was sure if it had meant that much he wouldn’t feel the spark of concern that ignited whenever he saw his brother, this bubbling protectiveness that flickered and hissed whenever he caught sight of him and really started to take notice.

He never knew how much time passed between each visit, not really, but there were times when Stan looked far too haggard, thick black bags under his eyes and a gauntness that shouldn’t be there. He never looked rested, no matter how much Ford whispered and nudged at him to rest. If anything a fire danced in his eyes and a snappish remark fell from his lips whenever his eyes seemed to droop while he tried to work on the light. But it was the worn look that got to Ford, the malnourishment that spoke of far too long without proper sustenance.

It sent a small shiver of doubt and hurt through him that doused the flame of the light.

How long had it been? What had happened to Stan whilst they had been apart?

Something told him he didn’t want to know.

_Please eat. Please rest. Please look after yourself._

The words slipped out more than once, more often than not if was honest with himself as he watched Stan toil away at the light.

Once, when the light died and before he found himself sinking slowly again, he was sure he heard a response.

“I guess I should try and sleep. No use to anyone dead.” There was a soft snort, a shake of his head.

“Not so sure I’m use to anyone alive either.”

_No! That’s not the point! I don’t want you hurting yourself for me! Look after yourself, you- you knucklehead!_

The comment left him with a weird mix of emotions that he knew would not last long against the emptiness of the depths, part deep-seated reproachful concern and part relief that the man might at last get some rest.

_We’ll have to talk about that… when I’m- when…_

As the peaceful cold took over him once more, forcing any worry into the current along with it, something in his own words repeated back to him. A soft chuckle escaped him, the last dregs of the light bubbling up away from him back to the surface, back to Stan.

_Knucklehead… that sounds familiar._

 

* * *

 

 

His strength started to grow with every moonlit visit.

It was like his very being was absorbing the light, capturing it and using it to build his form, build his shape and mind piece by piece. Capturing the strands of his essence that had been pulled apart by the sea’s tranquil abyss.

And slowly but surely he started to notice a pattern.

The light was dim, a steady soft glow that somehow reached him in the water but was not strong enough to tug him out entirely. It had taken a few trips to feel the sensation of his essence leaving his body, the disconcerting realisation that it was not just the cold that dragged him down when the light waned but instead his own body reminding him that he was not actually dead and this weird half-life was not how he should be existing.

_Come back, don’t linger. Don’t get stuck._

The small thought had him growing frantic whenever it made itself clear. So desperate to be a part of the world of the living but so very distant from it. He needed to see, needed to hear it all and all he got to see was this small dark room in the middle of the night as his brother worked tirelessly. He wanted to see the sun, feel it heat him as he closed his eyes on the beach and felt at one with the world with his research again.

But there was always that nagging worry, that slimy creeping thought that he may get stuck like this, away from his body. What then? Would Stan’s efforts all be in vain? Would his body bob to the surface, a lifeless husk and his essence stuck in the lantern room always wishing for the light?

He didn’t dare think about it, only encourage Stan on further, will him to get back his body as well as his mind.

_You can do it, I know you can. One day you’ll get me back properly._

He found it odd that Stan seemed to curl inwards, his shoulders hunching when he worked on the light whenever the praise slipped out.

He still wasn’t completely sure Stan could hear him. Sometimes his words went ignored, sometimes innocuous words that could be mumbled thoughts and not true responses tumbled out but nothing definitive.

But if he _was_ sure… he’d be worried that Stan didn’t believe a word of it.

And then the light would die, and the numbness would creep in and it didn’t matter how much he fought, how much he struggled to linger. As soon as the warmth he had absorbed left his system he had no choice but to return to his body.

Though it all changed one night, when the sun was just blooming over the horizon and the light came to a grinding halt. He had found himself staring, yearning to see the sun rise properly over the water so he’d stood inside the light for once, not trying to find more information.

Just peacefully listened to Stan mutter to himself, spoke words every so often to keep himself in the moment.

 _You’ve tried that sequence._  
It’s a full moon if you hadn’t written that down yet.  
Oh, that’s a new tactic! You should make sure to write it down to check again next time!

And so it had gone, until the numbness started to take over and he gave a soft disappointed sigh at the notion that all he’d see was the soft pink halo that was piercing the night sky.

A dark panicked curse came from behind him, dragging him away from his thoughts as he turned and watched his brother descend the steps in a hurry. He heard him shuffle into clothing, tilted his head curiously as he slowly made his way down the steps and found his brother in a full lighthouse keeper uniform that he didn’t wear through the night.

_Why don’t you wear that when you’re actually working?_

“God damn constricting suit- I know there’s a point to all this but sometimes I really wish I didn’t have to.”

And with one last look in the mirror and a check to the clock, he dashed down the stairs.

Ford followed.

The numbness was spreading through his arms, his body calling to him but the rapid descent down the stairs as he trailed after his twin made his mind start to spin again.

Once they were on solid ground he found he was hovering again, no longer being tugged downwards, as if the speed at which he had gone down was giving him a few precious moments to actually watch his brother through his day to day routine.

He leapt at the chance, the hollow edge not quite yet at his core enough to make him disinterested in the entire affair. It was something new, something real to keep the gloom at bay until the light returned.

Something to learn about Stan’s life. Not a memory of his own, something new to know was true and present instead of the past.

He shadowed him along the winding path the first time, not able to get very far. The worrying doubt that the tide would start to pull him in again soon looped in his skull, but he stretched it out as long as he could.

They came across a familiar old house, one that sent Ford wide eyed and sad, an ache of homesickness making him curl inwards as he stared at the rickety building.

It was old and worn but he knew it was his, knew that he had found the perfect place one day and had to have it. Set up an office in the room that overlooked the sea, rearranged the overflowing kitchen full of weird and wonderful experiments that his friend scolded him for, and subsequently filled the fridge full of edible items from time to time to keep him actually eating.

_‘F’… Fiddleford! That was it! The man in the photos!  
…What happened to him? Where is he?_

But there was no time for more thoughts, a bus full of people was fast approaching and he found himself taking in an unneeded breath. There were people! Bright faces and buzzing chatter. Children and adults and just so many _people_ that he couldn’t help staring and staring at them, so deprived of anything bar the night that the lingering dawn was giving him an almost overload of information as his jaw hung slack and his eyes and ears took in everything they could.

He knew in life he loved his solitude, took great appreciation in his books and his studies and in excited passionate scientific conversations with one or two people. But with so much time alone he felt starved of it all. Stan couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk to him directly, he couldn’t touch or taste or feel and this sudden influx of _people_ was as welcome as the sun on the horizon.

Stan stepped forward capturing his rapt attention along with everyone else’s. An abrupt hush, other than a few childish giggles, took over the excited group, even as the last beads of light left his system and he found that he could no longer stay no matter how much he wished to.

He slipped forward to see him properly, a proud image that he wanted to keep.

There he stood, buttons shining and suit impeccable, his hat set jauntily on his head as he gave the crowd a winning smile.

The very picture of a lighthouse keeper, though he was sure most were less amicable than his brother, just another point to him as he smiled softly at his brothers showmanship. A small tingling memory accompanied it, his silver tongue and charming grin getting them into places they shouldn’t be when they were younger.

“Welcome! Welcome! I know exactly why you’re here! But I wonder if any of you are really brave enough to learn the stories of the seas around these parts. They aren’t for the faint hearted, many a mariner has been lost to the waves here, many strange sightings and ghostly creatures have been caught and are displayed on this property.” Stan gave a deep breath, eyes sparkling.

Ford waited with bated breath, caught entirely in the performance even as his feet disappeared below the earth.

His last thoughts however were disgruntled, the happy proud moment bursting to befuddlement and slight reproach.

“Now with that is mind, who’s brave enough for a tour around the Mystery Shack?”

_Shack?? What are you calling a shack, knucklehead? That’s my home!_

Stan’s face became chagrined and shameful for a second before the showman’s mask slipped back on, his arm gesturing them to the front door.

Ford heard a soft mutter as he was tugged sideways towards the cliff and down.

“Well, it sounded better than ‘Mystery Mansion’...”

 

* * *

 

 

The irritation at his home being called a shack slowly dissipated with time. He told himself to ignore it, that he’d have words with his brother when he was back on solid ground again.

Or that’s what he told himself, even as the annoyance ebbed away and he found he couldn’t really muster it up again. Not when his brother fought so valiantly with the machine.

Not when he found him frustrated and broken, when he was pouring everything he could into keeping the light going. Not when he was sure more than once he saw a glimmer of tear tracks, heard soft sniffs as the man rubbed across his face or entered the light enough for him to see the blotchiness.

He never saw the actual tears, not in the beginning that is.

He wondered how angry and frustrated he got, how the darkness up here ate away at him before the light finally answered his calls and came on.

He wondered what it was like when the light refused.

What did his brother do those nights? How did he muster up the strength to keep trying? Pure willpower?

He didn’t have an answer to the questions but the anger at a name seemed needlessly petty when his brother sat muttering to himself, when he flinched at his softly spoken words as if Ford was lashing out at him.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I’ll get you back. It’ll work this time, it has to work. I need it to work. You need to come back so I can say sorry for everything. I never meant to-”

What he never meant to do, Ford never knew, always coming in to shush him, to try and put a hand on his shoulder even though he knew he would never make contact.

_Hey, it’s OK. You’re trying your best, I know you are._

“My best isn’t good enough!” Stan’s hand slammed down to the floor, a ringing echo of disappointment and rage and Ford’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited, the small rising hope that Stan was finally going to acknowledge his existence.

“It’s never been enough… always… always useless, never up to the job. Not like you. You’d have got me back years ago.” Stan gave out a bark of ice cold, sharp laughter as if there was a joke there that Ford should get.

“Who am I kidding, you might not have even tried. Why would you want to get me back if it was the other way around?”

_Stop that._

Stan went quiet, rubbing at his fist as he went back to work without another word. The silence ate at Ford, the heat of the light not enough to burn through the sick solid lump that had formed as he watched his brother work dejectedly, heard the other voices that hissed through the light, echoing Stan’s words back to him.

_“Worthless… never good enough… better off joining us.”  
“Join us, lighthouse keeper, leave the light and join us.”_

He hoped Stan couldn’t hear them. Hypocritical to a fault but if Stan ignored his words, he hoped he ignored theirs too.

His eyes narrowed as Stan’s gaze drifted to the balcony.

_Come on Stan, you’re doing so well. This light is a puzzle and a half, who knows how it works. But you’ve got it going – multiple times! Maybe not bright enough yet but it’s there, ready and waiting for that last little-_

“It’s not enough though.” Stan muttered to himself, no more anger, just cold hard disappointment.

_“Never enough, you’ll never succeed… join us…”_

Ford glared at the wisps, the white fog that sat on the edges of the light. The voices made no sense! They gathered at the light just like he did, why would they want to toy with Stan this way? Malicious little demons, ghosts who had lost their way, twisted and broken until what they once were was no longer visible.

He hated them, any annoyance at his brother was listless in comparison to the fire that they were bringing down upon themselves with their words.

_You’ve done better than I ever did._

There was a soft intake of breath that snapped his eyes away from the fog to Stan. But Stan wasn’t looking at the balcony anymore, wasn’t even gazing at the light. Instead he was looking at his hands, at the journal they held, trailing his fingers along the embossed cover thoughtfully.

“Did you come up here and try, Sixer? Were you curious about the light?”

_Of course I was. I mean look at this place, why do you think I live here?_

Ford grinned as he sat opposite his brother, sat in the circle of light and watched Stan chuckle quietly to himself.

He didn’t really remember though, just something told him he’d been up here before Stan came. That he’d fiddled with the lantern, given it up as a lost cause, something that would never work again or its instructions had been lost to time.

He’d shrugged, written it down as another mystery, a puzzle to tinker with when there was nothing else to do but nothing had come from it.

A piercing white light came to mind, blinding and fierce. He frowned at the memory, the lighthouse gleaming proud and tall, its light bright and shining across the ocean.

_Is that my memory? Or is that the lighthouse as it once was years and years ago?_

Stan didn’t respond, began to tinker again with a fresh burst of energy and so Ford brushed the thought away, smiling encouragingly as the light shuddered and dimmed despite Stan’s protests.

_You’ve gotten further than I ever have. If anyone can help me it’s you, Stan.  
Look how far you’ve come._

 

* * *

 

 

The Mystery Shack became less of an indignation and more of an amusement as much as he tried to protest otherwise.

_Were there really no other options, knucklehead?_

He was almost sure Stan was laughing at his exasperation, a mischievous glint to his eyes, glad he was there for the ride as he started up his tour for another morning.

Ford couldn’t really be angry at him though, not for this at least when he saw the money Stan was making and the bills that he hastily pushed out of sight as he started his tours.

He was keeping everything going, working night and day so that everything would be as it should be when he returned.

And he couldn’t begrudge him the shelter when he wasn’t using it.

He just wished he used it _properly_.

For eating. And sleeping. And all around _resting_ when he wasn’t in the lighthouse.

But no, he made up this- charade for his home, used his research to spin tales and create monsters for tourists to gawp and gasp at.

Ran straight from his night job into this one and left the protective streak in Ford flaring up to worry about when he actually gave himself time to rest.

He knew that it was hard work, knew that getting him home didn’t pay the bills and that of course Stan had to be doing something else to keep himself afloat.

But he just _did not like_ that Stan never seemed to just stop.

Not even for a moment.

_Night after night, day after day. Hardly see you eat, let alone sleep._

Ford gave a long suffering sigh.

 _Will you just_ **rest** _, you knucklehead._

“Like you’d be one to talk, Poindexter. The amount of times I had to drag you away from homework.” Stan hissed out, Ford pausing in his worrying spinning thoughts, not realising just how frantic they might have gotten for him to outright respond.

_That was a response, right?_

Stan didn’t dignify him with an answer, turning back to the crowd that had been cooing and whispering about the exhibit he had led them to as if it was the best thing they had ever seen.

Ford pushed away the concerns and doubts. Now was not the time- again, something he could scold Stan for when he was back properly. For now he wanted to enjoy every moment he could, listen enraptured as Stan spun another tale and led them to another creature set in a glass case.

“Now this one’s an interesting one. Washed up on shore a few years ago. Now the sailors used to…”

Ford half listened and half walked forward, ignoring the weird feeling of slipping through the people to get to the front and see what exactly was the highlight of Stan’s story. He couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him, the strange taxidermy creature that lay before him, shrivelled and partially unrecognisable.

From what he could tell it reminded him of stories of old, parlour tricks and odd fanciful museums that housed ‘mermaids’ made of fish and animal sewn together to make a mismatched creature that in years gone by would have been enough to fool anyone.

_Really, Stan? This is the best you’ve got? I mean… it’s well put together, I can hardly see the seam but-_

Before he could finish his thoughts he felt someone behind him, heard the tourists ask questions, lap up every word and snap photos of the sea creature that Stan had found without a hint of disbelief. Ford couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as tourist after tourist fell hook, line and sinker for Stan’s silver tongue and evident ‘proof’.

“Hey! I thought I made it clear that photos weren’t allowed! There are postcards in the gift shop with all you need, otherwise I’ll have to charge you extra!”

The amount of people that instantly put their hands to their pockets and gave Stan extra money was astounding.

_Wow, just wow._

“Maybe I don’t know a real mermaid when I see one, but neither do these chumps.”

Ford snorted as Stan muttered to himself, already counting up the money in his hands as Ford drifted over.

_This is all absolutely absurd. Amazing- but absurd._

Stan chuckled, eyes gleaming away as he watched the crowds. “Hook, line and sinker.”

_You always were a trickster._

Stan went quiet for just a moment, the laughter dying on his lips and Ford found the humour vanishing from himself as he turned to watch Stan anxiously.

“… I can’t wait until you’re here, Ford. Maybe we could do a tour together…” Stan chuckled again, thumbing over the notes as his eyes stayed glued to the floor. “Or maybe you’ll go back to your research, who knows. It would be interesting to give some real information instead of lies once in a while.”

Ford didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought that far, thoughts only on returning, not what he’d do afterwards.

“Who am I kidding? You’ll probably put a stop to all this.” Stan turned back to the tourists, drumming up the charm again. “Not that it matters, it’s your house. I’ll be out of your hair as long as you’re back safe and sound.”

Ford watched him walk away, a soft sadness consuming him.

_Why would I want that?_

 

* * *

 

 

The sad wistfulness that Stan held came and went whenever he thought the tourists weren’t watching.

Ford didn’t know if these instances happened regardless of him being there. But in the chances that he did get to watch, the precious moments where he could follow his brother, there was always at least one moment when the mask slipped, when the smile fell and his eyes grew distant.

When he’d find him staring out to sea, staring at the lighthouse or muttering soft words to himself.

“Just wait a little longer, Sixer. I’ll come get you soon.”

It warmed Ford’s heart but left him somehow sad.

It was nice to know that Stan was thinking about him, even when the sun rose.

But he wanted Stan to live a little too.

He had his life ahead of him- with or without him.

He shouldn’t waste all of it on him.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is taking too long!”

Ford flinched in the abyss, the cold suddenly thick and heavy around him instead of serene and numbing. There was something at the edges of his consciousness, something pulling him from his slumber but heavy-handedly.

Nothing like the soft coaxing of the light, this was forceful and jagged as if it did not care about his wellbeing at all.

His eyes fluttered open, the darkness if not more oppressive than the one behind his eyelids, the salt water stinging in a way it never had before. It was silent and dark and his heart began to thud in his chest as he felt his arms twitch ever so slightly, heavy and unresponsive. Not completely stone but as if he was bound in place where he hadn’t been before.

Before the cocoon had been his floating haven from the darkness, now it trapped him, tied him up and encircled him, sticking him to the ocean floor.

He could think, he knew his mind this time, clarity sharp and painful even when he realised there was no light to guide him.

 _Nothing, there’s nothing but darkness and silence. I can’t move! I’m at the bottom of the_ **sea** _-_

As he thought this, as the panic rose at the terrible realisation that he could feel water around him, that it was the sheer weight of it all above him that pressed upon his body and stopped him from struggling, he also realised that he was holding his breath and that for once in all the time he had been here- he really needed to breathe.

His body responded before he could stop it, trying desperately to take in much needed air even as his brain cried out against it.

Water flooded into his system.

He gave a gurgled scream, his mind distantly remarking on the fact that any noise had made it through the water at all, as any breath he had hoped to gain bubbled out of him in inky bubbles and drifted out of reach to the surface.

Most of his mind was more preoccupied though. His lungs burned, heaving coughs and chokes adding more water to his system as he tried his best to stem the flow. It was becoming harder and harder to think, the whistling from his own obstructed throat filling his senses and clogging up his thoughts as if water was dampening the circuits that resided there.

_Stan! Help me!_

The words slipped into his mind, loud and terrified before he could stop them.

 _Nothing I can do- I can’t- I can’t move! I can’t breathe! Stan! Stan,_ **please** _!  
Help me!_

The light blinked on above him, pale and pasty and not enough to move him. But he found that with its emergence he didn’t need to breathe again. He coughed and spluttered, and watched the inky water leave him and burn out in the soft spotlight that the light had created around him.

He was too tired to move though, floating listlessly, and bobbing in the light, not quite able to leave his body and drift towards it.

Instead he stayed hanging, arms drooping, eyelids heavy as his own shuddering whistling breaths gave him the knowledge that at least he was still alive even if it made no sense to his sluggish mind.

The bottom of the sea and yet he could breathe again.

Maybe he was wrong and he’d been dead for a long time.

_Maybe Stan should give up and let the waves take me._

The light vanished, cut off quickly tonight, not long enough for him to regain any strength he had lost in his turmoil.

Ford closed his eyes, waiting for the waves to drown him once more, the sea did not give back what it took, he knew that.

But nothing happened, the need to breathe again not returning.

The cold current came soon after, relaxing his tense muscles. His soft cocoon wrapped gently around him once more and his eyelids drooped further as he gave in to the motion.

He felt more than saw something shifting in the corner of his eye, following the currents and weaving in and around him as he slipped once more into unconsciousness.

“Pity. Guess we weren’t persuasive enough for him.”

Ford felt his heart twist, hearing the words as his mind escaped him.

“Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to try harder next time, won’t we?”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Stanley, your brother needs you, can’t you hear him?”_

_“He’s running out of time.”_

Ford froze as he heard whispers, drifting up towards the light. It had happened before but they seemed louder now, more coherent.

Or perhaps he was just listening out for them.

The light had brought fresh memories with it. A voice. A presence in the darkness that held him.

There was something other than him out there.

And it also wanted Stan to turn on the light.

Or perhaps it was nothing. It was such a hardship to focus on that particular voice, a swaying yellow light always appeared in his head and mystified him, like he was trying to push through white noise, never getting the right frequency to see what it was that lay just out of his reach.

Inside his own mind but not something he could latch on to and think about without his head hurting and his thoughts slipping to other easier things to comprehend.

The biggest mystery of them all and he felt like he had no chance at solving it.

_“He keeps calling out to you, crying out, why won’t you answer him, Stanley?”_

Ford’s expression grew stern and determined. Now was not the time to question, now was the time to figure out what was messing with his brother and make sure he set things straight.

He pushed upwards into the light, letting it fill him and pull him up as quickly as it could muster until he was propelled into the lantern room.

Though the light was lit there was no shuffling footsteps, no rumbling words or turning pages.

_Stan?_

Nothing responded.

Ford gulped, glancing down below and saw a figure at the desk through the holes. He gave a small noise of relief, quickly descending through the floor instead of taking the stairs now he had grown used to his new found skills.

_Stan? Can you hear me?_

Stan twitched in his sleep, a fact that should have relieved Ford, but his deep frown and soft whimper only drew him further into his concern.

It took a while longer to notice the dark mist behind him, hidden in the shadow Stan himself and his chair was casting but it was definitely there once Ford noticed it, a dark shape to one side of him, tight to his ear and side.

If he had breath it would have ghosted out of him in a gasp of pure terror as he realised that a wisp had grown, been given form and was whispering to Stan, the voice he had heard pushing through into Stan while he slept.

Stan twitched again, a soft whine escaping him, as he shook his head from side to side.

Whatever it was saying was swirling into his dreams, adding a layer to them that Ford dreaded to think about.

_Stan!_

He jumped forward, unable to stop himself, his thoughts only on protecting his brother from the maliciously circling spirit. His hand closed on Stan’s as he jolted, eyes opening for a second before slumping back into the dream.

His hand stuck to Stan’s, feeling it for once for just a second before Stan’s dreams hit him in a jumble of memories. He wasn’t sure who was influencing who, whether the dream was entering him or whether he was accidentally entering the dream and changing it as he went.

There was the blinding light again, the lighthouse clear and sharp this time as he bobbed above the waves. But then it vanished again, left him lost and alone without the moon to guide him. And he could hear it- the creature reaching up and ensnaring his boat, felt the vibrations as it slid across the deck and trapped it in its tendrils before snapping it with a sharp crunch.

Something told him it was real, something told him it was just a dream, two completely opposite notions that made his head feel like it was splitting in half as pain wracked through him.

_Stop! This isn’t happening! Stop!_

As abruptly as his words, the darkness fled, his eyes adjusting as he fell into the green waters.

And saw Stan fall too.

_This isn’t real! This can’t be real._

There was no confusion this time as he watched Stan sink away from him, not able to reach out and help him even as he fought and tried. He knew it wasn’t real but that didn’t stop him trying to help, even as he heard his own gurgled screams and choking heaving breaths around him.

None of this had happened, he couldn’t remember hitting the water, no matter how hard he tried. He had never cried out, had never felt himself drowning, not until-

He froze, pulled out of the dream as quickly as he had entered, gasping for breath as if he really had been submerged in the water, a sudden dread overcoming him as a new more recent memory came to the forefront of his mind.

_That scream… it was me, but not from then…_

Stan jolted away with him, coughing and spluttering as if he had also been drowning which turned Ford’s stomach all the more.

What hurt the most though was the way he groaned, the sudden slump in his shoulders at reality’s respite though he seemed resigned to the fact that the dream had happened to begin with.

_You’ve… you’ve dreamt this before, haven’t you?_

Ford narrowed his eyes but the mist had vanished from behind Stan. Whatever ‘it’ was, was gone.

For now.

He didn’t like the thought that it was up here with or without the light though.

Stan groaned again, snapping Ford’s eyes and thoughts back to him, as he rubbed down his face.

_Hey, Stan. It’s OK, it was just a-_

_“Stan! Help me!”_

Ford’s eyes widened as Stan leapt to his feet, the light blaring up above them again. He hadn’t even noticed it had gone out again but now there was panic flitting through him as Stan followed the voice and took the steps up at a frantic pace.

Ford followed quickly, heart racing as he spun around, not able to pinpoint the source, the weird distorted recording of his own voice echoing through the lantern room from all sides.

_That’s not me! Stan! Don’t listen to it!_

Stan didn’t seem to hear him.

“I-I’m coming, Ford! Just don’t give up, OK? Keep going, don’t you dare- don’t-” The words were coming out in a garbled rush from Stan’s mouth as if he couldn’t stem the flow in his fretting.

_Stan! It’s OK! I’m OK, I promise! You have time, it’s not- don’t panic._

_“Stan! Help me! Please!”_

_Stop it! Stop confusing him! Stop pretending to be me!_

“No!”

The light died as Stan roared, his fists hammering on the floor as he tried again and again to get it back on.

“No! No, no, no! Please. _Please_ , I just need- just a little more time…”

_Stan, It’s OK. You’re trying, I know you’re trying your best. Don’t- don’t listen to that voice…_

Stan sniffled, the anger leaving him as he pressed against the ground. “Never enough, never good enough. I just want you back, Sixer. I want to know you’re safe.”

Ford hovered closer to him, his presence he hoped, soft and reassuring as he settled next to Stan, knowing that he didn’t have long.

_I know. I want to be back too but please don’t hurt yourself. Please I’m safe, I’ll be fine. There’s still time.”_

“Still time… there’s still time, I’ve still got time…”

Ford gave a sigh of utter relief as Stan muttered at least some of the words back to him, not truly moving from his spot but at least it seemed a little bit more aware again.

_Yes, Stan, there’s still time. I promise, I’ll wait, now rest a while longer._

He smiled as Stan listened, the exhaustion of the nightmares getting to him as he fell into what Ford hoped was a dreamless sleep for once. It wouldn’t be much and he was sure he’d ache in the morning, but if he could go a few hours without those nightmares then Ford would take it as a win.

He waited there quietly, humming and softly consoling him whenever he twitched in his sleep, hoping that he was helping as much as he could until the waves called to him again.

He grew numb, his energy spent and waning fast from fighting for his life and the memories that had flooded back even if they were garbled and disjointed. The light seemed to sap from him faster than it had before, as if it had been needed to heal and mend him first. He let the pull take him without any fight, knowing it was futile in this state, sinking slowly below the floor as he continued to talk to Stan for as long as he could.

A soft chuckle brought him back slightly, the numbness not yet so encompassing as to stop him responding. His eyes strained through the lantern room even as they fought to close against his will.

The reassurance he had been feeling vanished in a puff of fog as his eyes drifted to the peak of the room.

Glistening teeth shone in a gaping maw, a twisted tooth filled grin, sharp and horrific that hung high above their heads. Copious, strangely familiar yellow eyes blinked down towards them, slitted and amused as if sizing up its prey in the dark recess as Ford watched on completely helpless.

But they weren’t focused on him.

The poisonous gaze was focused on Stan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I gushed enough that Ran is amazing? Cause I sat and watched this get drawn and got goosebumps and hdsgjsfh Them Teeth. I have been dying to flail about this image.


	6. Navigating The Void - Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part of this section! 8D (Warning for intrusive thoughts/depression)

The yellow eyes haunted him in the darkness.

Ford started to notice more as time went on, a trickle of unease sliding down his spine as he began to realise his awareness in his cocoon came only when he was left alone.

Only when whatever it was, had gone on to better prey.

Had gone to whisper and hiss to Stan.

He shuddered at the thought but he couldn’t let it overcome him in the water, it would only make him struggle and make it hard to breathe and then _it_ would come back to _calm_ him.

Tranquillity and peace abruptly turned on their head. The stillness and the quiet was a prison and he could not think of it as anything else when he woke up.

_I lose time! Precious time whenever I slip unconscious. That thing- that’s what’s holding me here!_

He never saw it in its entirety, just felt it draw near, felt its ice like tendrils in the water along with the current, realised now after all this time that it was these that sapped him of his strength below the water, made him slip unconscious as if draining what remained of him that the light saw fit to leave behind once it left him.

He remembered the sequence now. Each time the light came on, another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Because now he knew what to look for.

First the current changed, the powerful strokes of the large beast brushing over him.

Then the tendrils sapped his dwindling strength, maybe even drawing out the last glimmers of light to feast on.

Then came the eye.

The bulbous yellow pustule on its stalk, dark slit locked to him. It swayed with the water, this way and that before him, as the tendrils curled around him, locking up his body further, stealing its motion. Turned him to stone.

It made him drift, his eyes struggling to focus on it as his eyelids drooped, made that sudden comforting peace encompass him and the cold that the creature brought no longer feel cold.

It was the words that took the longest to remember.

“That’s right key, he’ll open the door soon for us.”

“Don’t fight it, you know no good comes from fighting. We don’t want to give Stan another performance, now do we?”

The voice became less caring, less soothing and cool once the creature seemed aware that Ford was starting to suspect, that he was starting to try and focus and strain against the pull.

“Oh? You’re afraid. Well… that took a while.”

“Good, I need you afraid. You and your brother. Not just afraid though, afraid of _me_.”

The cackle started to ring through his ears, a reminder of nightmares and whispers in the lantern room.

It became a constant that he could hear, something to ground him, to know that the creature existed and wasn’t just a figment that his mind dredged up in the all-consuming darkness of the ocean floor.

Not just a monster he had imagined to keep them both fighting.

Not when he could hear it, feel it. He might not be able to see it but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

“Keep on fighting, little key, it just makes things more interesting.”

* * *

 

_Stan! There’s something else down here!_

Ford bit his lip, worried to give out the same message that the creature was trying to give out, scared to work Stan into a frenzy when he seemed to freeze for a second before continuing to work on the light as if he hadn’t heard anything.

_Little key._

It was obvious now, he’d thought it seemed like a prison cell down there. His mind spun as he sat and watched Stan work. It had taken a few visits to cement everything in his head since the creature had lingered on the ceiling, whispering thoughts into Stan’s ear that he couldn’t quite hear. His eyes kept gravitating towards the spot, his heart thumping as he waited to see its dreadful teeth, a lolling tongue snaking out to lick its lips as it watched Stan work.

The creature had its target and at first, in his panic, Ford had thought that it had also been drawn to the light, a recent accident caused by Stan’s continuing efforts. A creature far larger than the wisps had been lured in and was now in turn luring Stan to his doom.

That was unacceptable. Ford would never let it happen. But the truth was far, far worse he realised, the more the creature spoke to him and the more information he collected and collated.

The creature had lured them in years ago.

When he was just a young researcher, out on the sea, curious as to what was out there in the depths, what had caused so many myths and legends in this one small town.

So full of high hopes, so full of enthusiasm that he hadn’t thought about the consequences.

And Stan, Stan had been lured into this trap when he had come here, when the creature dragged Ford below the surface and watched raptly as the man in the lighthouse struggled his hardest, night after night, to get his brother back.

It had all been planned. Somehow it had all been planned and timed perfectly.

And now the creature waited, waited for Stan to succeed and pull them both out of the darkness.

_Grows in strength, it said something about fear. It needs us to fear it._

He could feel himself drowning all over again, hear the same voice echoing through his head as the light unlocked more and more.

_“This is taking too long!”_  
“Pity. Guess we weren’t persuasive enough for him.”  
“Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to try harder next time, won’t we?”

_Of course, it used your pain to try and spur Stan on. It used you in his nightmares to keep Stan going, used your voice- everything is leading to this light being lit- it needs the light. For some reason it needs the light! Perhaps it tried to break free entirely all those years ago and when it didn’t make it, it decided to use you.  
Because you’ve seen it- Stan will do anything to get you back. He doesn’t rest, he hardly eats, he works day and night to get you home and the creature knows he won’t stop until he succeeds. _

_I can’t…_

_I can’t let that happen._

Ford felt himself go cold. It wasn’t the natural numbness he had grown accustomed to, but a deep seated empty sadness, one that counteracted the light flowing into him as he sat there.

He could feel that Stan had stopped, could see him straining to hear. He must have been going so fast Stan couldn’t keep up with the frazzle of words his mind had created.

Or perhaps they had been interspersed with images, flickering sounds and random lights as he pieced everything together in his head and didn’t really wonder how it might sound to someone listening in.

His shoulders sagged as he realised the weight he was putting on himself. Realised what he must do, the gravity of the situation crystal clear and sharp enough to pierce him to the core.

_I can’t let him continue._

No longer could he hope for the light, it had been tainted by the creature. Every time Stan lit it, it was another step closer for the monster that dwelled in the abyss. Every night Stan worked towards figuring it out entirely was another boost of power as it whispered spiteful words, goaded him, struck fear into his heart and kept him racing towards a goal that was both a blessing and a curse.

_If I leave, there’s a possibility it will too._

He knew the old tales, he’d read his own research over Stan’s shoulders. There hadn’t been much, not by a long shot, so forgotten through time. But there had been warnings, unexplained storms, boats vanishing without a trace in seemingly calm seas. A complete change in tidal flows throughout the years until a cove that sailors feared to tread was now a peaceful town where dark clouds were a fleeting worry in the night, the picturesque town as serene as the weather.

There had been an odd mistrust for him when he first became the resident of the lighthouse keeper’s mansion. The townspeople had whispered, hissed behind hands to one another as he walked past.

_“He’s the one. The one in the lighthouse.”  
“Strange man, doesn’t he know not to go there?”_

He had asked them, once he’d gained their trust. Or, well, more specifically once Fiddleford had. It had come back to him in drips and drabs, those memories. Just this weird sense of suspicion in his notes, a question of confusion at the superstition that the lighthouse was out of bounds to the town but no one quite knew _why_.

 _“It just_ **is.** _You just_ **don’t** _go there.”_

So obviously he had gone. Found his way to the lantern room, found his way to where Stan now paced around the light, hemming and hawing as to what would keep it lit, almost hopeful Ford would answer with his own thoughts like he had before.

Unlike Stan he’d never gotten far, never managed to get it alight but something had drawn him to the balcony, drawn him to that spot in the sea. Drawn both him and Fiddleford. He’d seen the letter Stan carried and read, muttering to himself all the while as he read it over and over and stared out to sea.

Something had spooked his friend, made him run for cover.

And yet once again his curiosity, his scientific mind that had to dissect and analyse everything just _had_ to know what had caused his equally minded friend to turn tail and run without a word.

Look where it had gotten him, all that untameable curiosity. Now he knew. A creature was imprisoned on the seafloor, one that thrived on fear and knowledge.

It wanted so desperately to escape its binds and would do anything to achieve it.

Ford couldn’t let it.

His curiosity had done this to him, nothing else. It was his undoing.

Perhaps it was best he stayed below, where his insatiable curiosity could hurt no one else.

_Oh god. What if it had gotten out all those years ago?_

What if he had freed it out on the water, when Stan stood alone and defenceless at the top of the lighthouse. What would it have done first?

_It could have gone straight for Stan and Stan wouldn’t have known what was happening!  
He still doesn’t know what’s going on. If that thing gets out- it’s already giving him nightmares, what could it do once it was unchained?_

He knew it could do a lot of damage, could give gifts and take them away again whenever it felt like it.

Let someone have no need to breathe until drowning seemed useful to it.

Let someone sleep for years unless something else sparked up the consciousness.

Take away memories, minds, leave them a husk of their former selves.

And this was just what it could do to him when it was weak and broken by its bonds. The world couldn’t cope with it. The gullible town would do exactly what the creature wanted and fear it, help it gain more and more power. The storms would rain down, fiercer and fiercer with every scream and every fearful utterance. That laughter would thunder through the clouds and lightning would strike wherever the beast wished.

What could it do? What could it achieve?

Someone had locked it below for a reason.

It could never see the light of day again.

Yet with all this in mind Ford could only shake and tremble at what it would do to Stan. Could only focus on what the beast might do to him. How it would torment him for his success.

Would it even allow him to leave? Would it leave him at the bottom of the ocean as Stan watched the world crumble before him? As everything he had fought for, everything he had tried to will into existence burned to ashes and scattered on the breeze?

_No, it’s better I stay down here._

“What was that?”

Ford blinked, eyes zoning in on Stan as he seemed to shuffle around frantically, his face contorting painfully as his hand gripped at his chest. Ford jumped up to greet him, his hands flitting uselessly around his brother.

_S-Stan? Stan, are you OK?_

“I was sure…” Stan stared out to the balcony, out towards the cove and the lights dim circle out at sea.

_Stan? Talk to me, just talk and keep breathing._

Stan let out a shaky breath, suddenly far too pale as if unlike Ford he was being sapped of life as he stood inside the light that bathed the room.

“I-I swear I just heard yo- Ford, you can’t give up on me, OK? Whatever happens I’m going to find you.”

Ford felt his heart crumble to dust as he watched Stan grip at his own, his words coming out choked and painful. He winced as Stan hit his forehead with the palm of his hand, pulling off his glasses to roll it down his face and press at his temples as if a sudden headache was forming.

“Get a grip, you can do this. You have to do this. You’re hearing things, they’re not real. None of it’s real. It can’t be.”

_Stan, listen to me…_

“Ford wouldn’t tell me to stop.”

_You must, Stan._

Ford flew around him as Stan stormed away, going back towards the light. His face was set and dark as he got back to work, his eyes locked forcefully to the panels and his books as if nothing else in the world existed.

 _Stan,_ **please.** _Listen to me._

“You’re tired. That’s all it is. You’re tired and you’re hearing things. Sure, there are voices. You know there are voices out there but you’re so tired that you’re hearing them wrong.” Stan hiccupped, a bubble of hysterical laughter leaving him as he focused on his work even as his hands shook too much to hold the journal straight. “Huh, fancy that. You’re so out of it that you’re making the impossible even weirder. Good going, Knucklehead, trust you to think up something worse than the truth of the matter.”

Ford gave a sigh, rubbing at his face as he watched Stan mutter away to himself. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. Stan had been working on this for years, he couldn’t just stop him like that. He wouldn’t just accept Ford’s words and put his tools down, never to set foot in the tower again.

He had too much stubborn resolve for that.

_God, your stubbornness always did get you into trouble._

“Stop it.”

Ford didn’t hear him, his annoyance flaring up as he started to pace.

He wasn’t angry at Stan, of course not. After all it was that reckless abandon and tireless work ethic that had got them here in the first place. He’d been encouraging him for the exact same thing for years now, so proud of his brother for everything he had accomplished.

No, what he was annoyed at was the situation. What he was so bitterly resentful of was that all of that had been rendered useless, rendered a fool’s errand, nothing more.

_It’s not fair! None of this is fair! I want to leave, I want to get out of this place! But I can’t! You can’t help me, Stan. I can’t let you._

“Please. Stop.”

He’d spurred his brother on and on towards his downfall and now the spiral was so big he wasn’t sure he could stop the momentum down into the jaws of fate.

The creature was laughing at them from the bottom of the sea, the sound bubbling up into foam at the surface and he hated it with every fibre of his being in that instant.

It had taken everything from him and then given him hope that the world could be righted again.

But it never could be. There was just no way that he could escape without the beast following and wreaking havoc.

Not even Stan could do that.

The anger fled, leaving behind just the bitter clinging disappointment that all his hopes had been dashed against the rocks.

He could hear the waves hitting them, hear the crash and thud. And just for a second he also heard the cracking of his boat again as the monster tore it apart, in amongst the sound of the rolling waves below.

_It would have been better if it had just been a shipwreck. Hit the rocks without a light to guide me. At least then there wouldn’t be this useless false hope. It would have been better if there had never been any hope._

“Stop it!”

The yell snapped him out of it, the large clatter as Stan jumped to his feet with a roar of pain bringing him to his senses. The journal flew through him, a dull clunk echoing through the room as it hit the glass and fell to the floor. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, the spell suddenly broken as he heard panting behind him and he realised that Stan sounded as desperate as the days when he lost hope. The days when he thought that there was no way he could get Ford back and spoke to himself in broken cut off words about how terrible he was.

Only he’d done it this time, he’d made Stan feel this.

“You’re not him! Stop pretending to be him!”

He slowly turned, the tormented and pained expression on Stan’s face full of fear and betrayal and it cut him to the quick.

He hadn’t meant for Stan to hear that, hadn’t meant to say that.

Of course he didn’t believe it was him. What brother hopes the other finds him dead instead of being able to help him?

_If it was the other way round…_

His stomach twisted as Stan’s hands snapped to his ears, a soft whimper escaping him.

_He doesn’t want to hear me._

He knew deep down why. Kept trying to force it all away because it hurt too much for him too. It ached to think about it the other way around. How he knew that he’d react the exact same way, that he’d be shaking and angry if he heard Stan say that he wished he was dead so that he could grieve instead of hope.

But he also knew that it would be less painful than _this_.

Years and years of torment, of hoping, pleading for some sign that Ford was alive.

It would have been better to crush it before it could begin.

And as much as this moment hurt, he knew he couldn’t stop. He had to keep trying to get through to him.

“You’re just another one of the voices. Ford’s… Ford’s the one that’s been guiding me on, right? He’d never… he’d never say these things. He’d never tell me to stop searching for him.” Stan slumped down, knees hitting the metal with a solid ring. His arms fell to his sides as he stared at the now dwindling light, slowly fading for once instead of clicking off entirely as if draining away along with Stan’s hopes.

The light grew cold to Ford, alarm shuddering through him at the sensation.

_I have. I have been. I’m sorry, Stan, you’ve been doing such a good job but now… now it’s time to rest. Time to stop. You have a life to live. It’s- it’s…_

_It’s time to grieve._

Stan choked, his back shuddering as Ford watched but no tears fell yet. “That’s not fair. You can’t- you can’t tell me to keep going night after night only to tell me to give up now. I can’t- no! You’re wrong! I can’t! _You’re not him_. Why? Why would you suddenly tell me to-”

His words halted, his eyes brimming with unshed tears that caught the last of the light as he stared at nothing. His eyes glazed over as Ford hushed him, came right up beside him and held him close, or as close as he could without slipping through.

_Stan, there’s something else out here. Something malicious that wants you to get us both out. I can’t let it escape, you have to leave me behind._

“I can’t just leave you with something like that! Is that what made you scream out for help? Every so often I hear you screaming out of the sea… calling for me…”

Ford shuddered, knowing exactly what he meant. The drownings, the mismatch of words he’d cry out in the darkness, unable to think clearly and the creature would wrap them all up, twist them and use them on other nights to keep Stan fretting, keep him moving forward.

_N-no. No, that’s the creature pretending, trying to use me against you._

Stan didn’t need to know about that, any of that.

It didn’t matter what happened to him. Only that everyone else was safe.

That was what mattered.

His heart thudded in his chest as he shuddered at the thought of what the beast would do to him once it realised it was thwarted.

“Y-you know. You never were a good liar, Poindexter.”

Ford sighed again, a huff of a laugh escaping him as Stan sniffled, a bubbling hiccup of a chuckle bursting out of him in reciprocation.

Of course Stan knew when he was lying.

He always had known.

_Alright, most of the time it’s the creature. But Stan, none of that matters. You can’t let it get out into the world._

“But I _need_ you back, Sixer.”

Ford felt his heart break again as he listened to Stan’s heartfelt words, a desperate plea in themselves telling him to just stop talking and let Stan carry on trying.

_I’m sorry, Stan. I- You have to learn to let go. To let us both rest now. It’s time to stop._

“There’s really nothing I can do?”

_No, Stan._

“Then, what’s the point of anything?”

Ford’s alarm grew as the light vanished, as Stan fell listlessly out of his arms without any hesitation. He curled up into a ball as Ford stood, feeling the light drain from him, the last of it flickering and dying away without Stan’s last threads of hope to keep it burning.

The numbness sunk in quickly, biting up his arms and into his core as Stan let the cold wash over him as well and stared dazedly at nothing.

_Stan? No- no, no, no, you can’t give up on everything like that! You can’t just-_

“Why? All I’ve done for 30 years is try to get you back. If after all this time it was for nothing then…”

Ford waited, tried in vain to keep himself afloat as he waited for Stan to continue.

“Then what’s the point? No use to anyone…”

Ford felt everything leave him in a puff of ice, as if Stan had scooped his insides out and suddenly Stan giving up on the light seemed like a terrible idea, he hadn’t realised how much his self-worth was connected to it, connected to the light and his encouragements.

It made sense now, the voices that called to him to join them, the ones that hissed and purred through the glass, luring him, tempting him to his fate.

They already had something to work with, something there buried deep in Stan that let them in, that clawed and bit into his psyche and welcomed them in to whisper in his ear.

So if Stan didn’t have him there, would he fall prey to them?

He could feel himself sinking into the room below no matter how hard he struggled and so instead he did the only thing he could do.

He called out again.

_Stan! Stan, don’t- this… this can’t be the last time I see you!_

A glimmer came back to Stan’s eyes as he slumped onto his back.

It wasn’t much but it was something.

_Stan, I can’t have this as my last memory. You’re right! Of course you’re right! Whoever got anywhere by giving up?_

He’d say anything. Anything to keep Stan from plunging into the darkness with him.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face, choking back a disbelieving strangled noise.

“Make up your damn mind, Sixer. Am I giving up or not?”

_N-No! Not just yet! Don’t give up on me yet! Maybe there is something we can do. Some other way._

“…I’ll hold you to that, Poindexter.”

_And I’ll hold you to seeing me again!_

Ford finally gave into the incessant tugging as Stan stood up on wobbling legs, finally reassured that Stan would not be doing anything self-destructive whilst he wasn’t there.

Well, other than try to get the lantern working again, but he would work on that next time, when he had thought more on what exactly he would do and say.

* * *

 

Ford decided to be quiet the next time the light was on.

He only spoke to let Stan know he was there and then he went quiet.

Tried to think what to say, what to do.

…But nothing came to mind.

Stan looked more tired than he had in years, more haggard and bone weary as if a lot had been knocked out of him in one fell swoop.

He seemed relieved when Ford didn’t try to persuade him again, and it burned slimy and cloying down Ford’s throat that it wasn’t the creature that had made Stan fearful and tentative but him. He’d done this, he’d made Stan feel betrayed and hopeless.

Made him feel useless and tormented him in his dreams by the looks of it.

Sleep had not been kind since the last time they had met.

So he decided to stay silent, to watch without a word. No hints of encouragement, but no lashing words either.

He didn’t want an argument, not tonight.

But he also couldn’t bring himself to lie again, to spur Stan on.

And so a stalemate occurred. Quiet unless Stan spoke, when he muttered to himself and Ford found himself answering in fear that Stan would think he’d gone and give into despair again.

_Can’t let that happen, can’t let him carry on- what do I do?!_

“What was that?”

_Nothing. Talking to myself._

And so it went on, into the morning, Stan seemed adamant to prove himself, the light filled with a new determination that Ford couldn’t find it in him to dampen.

Until something in him snapped. He couldn’t argue and he couldn’t praise him.

And so instead he just spoke.

Little whispers, little remembrances. They weren’t much, he still had a lot that slipped like sand through his fingers but he kept it up until Stan took over from him, looking far more relaxed than he had all evening. He spoke of times that Ford barely remembered, helped ease new bright sparks into his mind that had still been hidden in the fog.

Their childhood, their adventures, the Stan’O’War.

Silly little moments that meant nothing to anyone else but had stuck with Stan through the years and Ford found himself nodding in agreement when the images and sounds slipped back through the void.

It felt fitting, to have more memories to go back to the darkness with.

The sun flickered on the horizon and Ford felt charged full of light from sitting himself squarely in front of the bulb. He’d decided what he was going to do as he sat, as the light clunked off with the sunlight and Stan gave a happy rewarding sigh to himself as he groaned and stood.

He’d achieved so much again in just one night.

And just this once Ford couldn’t praise him, couldn’t stop the sadness flowing through him even as the numbness struggled to take hold.

He held firm, keeping it at bay as he followed Stan, giving in to the urge to watch him in the daylight he’d been given.

 _Just this last time, one last time I’ll let myself and that will be it._  
Just this once.  
One more, one more good memory to keep the dark at bay.

That was all he asked for. One more good day. Just being able to leave Stan knowing he’d carry on, that’s all he wanted.

He was glad that he had started to speak throughout the night. The little nothings that meant everything because it was so much better than leaving him with anger and resentment or twisted spiteful hope.

It was just nice- a good memory to leave Stan with.

Nothing more, nothing less.

A small light in the darkness, something Stan could hold on to.

He hoped so anyway, it was what he was going to do.

It was all he could do.

_But what if he can’t…  
He has to._

Or that’s what he kept telling himself.

_Will he be OK?_

That this was the way things had to be.

But he couldn’t leave if he didn’t know whether Stan would be OK without the hope. No matter what he told himself, the thought of the last time he had spoken to Stan kept rearing its ugly head.

_“No use to anyone…”_

A cold shudder went through him at the thought, eyes locking on to his brother’s retreating back as he darted down the stairs in a panic that seemed more explosive than usual.

“Shoot. Shoot. I hope neither of them are up yet.”

_Them?_

Ford frowned, tilting after him faster, floating just at his shoulder to catch any of the mutters that he could hear spewing from Stan’s now nervous mouth.

“It’s alright, Mabel always believes you- Dipper might not but hey, no reason for him to be suspicious. Just gotta scoff and brush it all away.”

_Mabel? Dipper?_

Stan had never mentioned them before.

Ford followed him over to the mansion, scoffing at the ‘Mystery Shack’ sign that had been stuck outside of it. He saw Stan grin for a second at the noise, giving a look that seemed to beg for a remark so he refrained, sniffing loudly instead.

He didn’t really feel like talking anymore anyway, he didn’t know what to say again.

Instead he watched as Stan darted in, gave a few surreptitious looks about before shuffling into the kitchen and giving a sigh of relief when he found it empty. Ford watched everything like a hawk, intrigue and curiosity taking over as Stan brought out chocolatey cereals and brightly coloured plates that Ford was sure hadn’t been there the last time he had snuck about the house.

_Wait…_

Ford snuck closer into the kitchen, face utterly befuddled as he looked from one plate to the next, noting the pattern below was exactly the same. Stan seemed to be giving the bright pink plate an odd serene smile, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest as he picked up a similar mug and cutlery, putting them out ready on the table after brushing away what looked like glitter from the placemat.

_Have they been… painted? Recently?_

He watched Stan for a few more moments, followed his gaze as he rolled his eyes at a number of scrap bits of paper covered in miniscule writing left on the other side of the table. He tutted, gathering them all up into a neat pile to one side before setting up another place.

“Honestly, notes all over the place. Worse than Ford was.”

_Worse than me?_

Stan snorted, nodding to himself. “Hard, I know.”

Ford’s eyes went back to the draining board, there was so much more washing up than was necessary for one man, even with guests staying for a night or two. No, this seemed like more than just a temporary guest. There was something he was still missing, a soft questioning hum escaping him as he continued piecing together the puzzle. There was something about the colours, not to mention the sudden copious amounts of sugar in various items that littered the counters and now the table, that spoke of a clue he wasn’t quite grasping.

A small gasp of surprise and happiness escaped him as he turned to the fridge, photos and drawings that had not been there before littering its surface. Everything clicked into place, the sadness of his last visit eclipsing under bubbling inquisitive joy.

 _Kids!_  
There are kids here.  
But whose-

“Grunkle Stan! There’s a bus of people outside!”

A small voice echoed down from upstairs. Ford watched as Stan schooled his face into a gruff scowl, pushing away the soft smiles that had been apparent as he got their breakfast ready. He raised an eyebrow, watching him try to keep a hold of some kind of aloofness as sets of feet started to come pounding down the stairs.

“I’m not blind, Dipper! I can smell the money from here. Your breakfast is on the table.”

He couldn’t help grinning at the sight of Stan trying to feign indifference when there was proof on the fridge next to him of gleaming bright smiles on three faces. There were even post it note wars pointing out Stan’s smile and stickers ranking them according to a system he wasn’t familiar with. Yet by the looks of the notes back Stan seemed adamant that it was nothing at all.

“Coming!”

“Yeah well, I’m going to do my first tour so I won’t be about. If you two get in the way, I’ll have to have you as an exhibit tomorrow.” Stan shouted back up, a grin of triumph on his face as the footsteps paused for a second before growing louder.

Ford shook his head fondly at Stan’s back.

_Who left you in charge of kids?_

Stan’s smile fell again as he looked around the little kitchen. “Shermie, why on Earth did you trust me with these two? If I get them back to you in one piece it’ll be a miracle.”

“What was that, Grunkle Stan?”

_Wait, Shermie-_

Stan shook himself, gruffness returning to his voice. “I said, you two stay out of trouble!”

“Oh. Of course, Grunkle Stan, when do we get ourselves in trouble?”

“Oh I don’t know, Mabel. Every other day?”

“Exactly, we got in trouble yesterday!”

_Grunkle- Great Uncle? I’m a Great Uncle?_

“You know what, maybe I will have you two helping me with an exhibit tomorrow then to keep you out of mischief.” Stan grinned sharply, jumping out from around the corner towards the steps. Ford heard two similar yelps as footsteps pattered back up again. Stan roared with laughter as Ford followed him, trying to catch a peek of them.

“No fair, Grunkle Stan, you’re guarding the kitchen.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be doing a tour?”

Stan snorted, moving away towards the front door. “Yeah, I’m off, I’m off. But first, what have I told you the rules are?”

“…not to go in the water?”

“ _And_?”

“Dipper, I told you he’d notice you going near the lighthouse.”

“He didn’t say that!”

“Oi, no bickering. I’m just making it clear again. You’re only here for a little while longer and that lighthouse is falling apart.” Ford could only just about see the kids feet from where they were and he itched to go closer, but Stan was getting further and further away towards the door and part of him wasn’t ready to have him vanish from his sights yet either.

“But Grunkle Stan! There’s obviously something up there!”

“I’ve told you, kid, there’s nothing up there and if there is it’s nothing good.” Stan rolled a hand down his face. “I’d rather your parents didn’t kill me for letting you get hurt, especially chasing some ghost.”

Ford didn’t hear the reply as Stan slammed the front door, his breathing heavy for a second.

“A few more weeks, they’re here for a few more weeks and then you don’t have to worry about them doing something stupid.”

Ford frowned at his words as he straightened up, showman’s smile stretching across his face and wiping away the worried expression. There was something about the words that was in discord with his body, his hand tight on the doorknob and his eyes sad even as the mask fell on.

_You don’t want them to go._

“Course I do. Always getting in trouble, making it hard to work on the lantern.”

_That’s a good thing._

Stan walked away without another word to him, arms widening as he went towards the punters.

“Sorry about the wait! Had some trouble with one of the Mystery Shack’s inhabitants- who knew ghosts could be such pains?”

Ford rolled his eyes at the titters as Stan’s spiel continued, letting the lies and half-truths roll off his tongue without any hesitation before starting to guide them into the house. He was disappointed when he glanced into the kitchen, the kids already gone by the time the crowd went past but he let it slide, nervous as the numbness became apparent in his hands, reminding him that time was short and he needed to focus.

He listened as Stan told a tale from the deep, let himself get drawn into the story and watched it unfold before him. His brother was a great storyteller, he got swept away with it, felt the ghost of a boat below his feet, felt the wind and rain against his face as Stan pointed towards an old painting of a ship that he said had vanished in the cove years ago, never to be seen again.

_Wait- wasn’t that part of my research?  
Pretty sure that’s not how it happened in those old accounts…_

“That’s why you mustn’t trust the seas here.” Stan nodded, face serious and solemn. “You ask any of the townspeople and they’ll tell you the same. Mother Nature isn’t kind in these parts of the water and no one knows why.” He gave a playful wink, though it sent a shudder through the crowd as they muttered quietly amongst themselves. “Though if you want to become my next ghost story, go right ahead, I could use some new ones.”

Ford couldn’t help the soft and appreciative surprised noise that escaped him.

After all, that was one way to keep people out of the water.

 _“Good, I need you afraid. You and your brother. Not just afraid though, afraid of_ **me** _.”_

_The creature likes fear._

Ford watched as Stan frowned, looking around him with a small amount of trepidation before shaking his head and continuing on his tour. Ford followed tentatively, slowly turning things over in his head as he went. Stan was adding to the stories about this place, giving people that exhilarating fear of a good myth. Was there something to that? Something more?

_Doesn’t matter. After today, it won’t matter._

Ford nodded, brushing away the thoughts. After all, he’d made his decision, he couldn’t squander what time he had thinking about things more.

So instead he watched, a silent observer as Stan continued on. He tried not to laugh at the absurd bits, found himself nodding appreciatively at the others but what he focused on most of all was Stan. Stan who seemed to relax more and more with every exhibit, whose eyes gleamed mischievously when he managed to get a customer to jump or shudder at his tales.

_He loves this. He loves his job._

He managed to stay to the end of that first tour, his eyes starting to droop as his arms and legs grew heavy. He watched with a soft smile still though as Stan sent the tour group off to the gift shop and his smile didn’t falter like it once would have when eyes were no longer on him.

_That smile looks more like one of the ones on the fridge._

There were loud footsteps running towards them then that caught his attention, still not numb enough yet to not be intrigued by Stan’s life.

Two small kids ran past, Stan stepping out of the way without much thought as they came hurtling through.

_Is that-?_

“Oi! I thought I said stay out of trouble today!”

“We aren’t in trouble! We just saw something cool outside and are going to check it out!”

“When that comes to you two that’s the definition of trouble!”

Ford wasn’t really paying attention as Stan shouted after them, too busy trying to gather every detail of the pair. The glaringly bright sweater and matching glowing smile. The inquisitive eyes and fluttering papers scattering on the floor from arms too small to hold the sheer magnitude.

“Well that’s why we’ve got you, Grunkle Stan! You’ll come and punch it!”

“Maybe I won’t this time!”

“Sure, you will!”

_They’re twins. There are more twins in the family!_

Ford couldn’t help the excitement as he turned back to Stan.

_They seem as close as we were! Thick as thieves! What are they like-_

Ford stopped in his questions as he saw Stan’s face, the soft happy expression as they vanished from sight, full of warmth and affection. The endearing shake to his head, the soft sigh as the door clicked shut behind them.

“God, they’re going to be the death of me.”

_No they won’t._

Stan snorted, shaking his head more as he rubbed a hand down it. “Right, back to work.”

Ford knew better than to listen to the dismissive tone though as Stan straightened up. This new bright spark was his opening, he could feel it burning a hole in him, keeping the numbness at bay.

This was how to keep Stan from lighting the lantern, this was what mattered.

He’d already said he didn’t want them near the lighthouse, he knew the dangers of that place.

He had something far more precious to hold on to than Ford could ever have imagined.

And it was exactly what he needed.

The creature couldn’t get loose. Couldn’t get to Stan, couldn’t get to them.

Plus, he’d needed to know Stan would be OK, he had people in his life, people he cared about and cared about him. He knew Stan, knew he’d deny that he cared but he could tell. He could tell from the photos and the bits and pieces that littered the entire home that were definitely not of his making.

And they’d done that too. They’d made a house into a _home_.

It had taken him this long but he abruptly realised there was a photo in the lighthouse too, sitting proudly on the desk beside the picture of them as kids. The sweater that Stan had recently been wearing and fussing with now made all the more sense with Mabel’s own similar one too.

They meant the world to him.

_You should concentrate on them, Stan. Looking after them. Make the most of what you have._

_…Goodbye, Stan._

Stan spun around as Ford vanished, whisked away to the abyss.

Ford never saw his face drop in panic, alarm sparking behind his eyes and in his heart.

“S-Sixer?”

“Sixer, c-come on. You’ve… you’ve never said goodbye before.”

“Ford? Ford, _please_.”

* * *

 

The darkness swept over Ford again, coiling around and around him as he drifted.

It was home now, perhaps not a wanted one but safe and numb all the same. He let it enclose around him, let the cocoon nestle back into place and drag what it could away from him.

But some of it stayed, the knowledge of his brother, the twins, all safely wrapped up in his heart to remind him of his decision.

_He needs to move on, he needs to know everything is OK. Can’t let that creature win and try to use you against him again._

He wouldn’t let it happen, determination flooding through him and keeping the cloying cold at bay. The darkness was serene and peaceful but he knew at a moment’s notice the creature that held him could change all that and so he had to be ready, had to keep what wits he could about him in case it tried to make him call for help again.

And so he held on, held on to all the scraps he had gathered and let unconsciousness take him, safe in the knowledge that he’d remember his pledge when he awoke and that Stan could live without him.

Safe in the knowledge that they had won, his sacrifice would keep whatever misfortune could befall them at bay.

There was silence, haunting and tranquil as he succumbed, his mind registering every now and then that time had passed and he’d seen nothing of the light.

He smiled softly.

Stan had heeded his warnings, he’d stopped.

Ford felt fear tug at the corners of his mind and pushed it viciously away, smile vanishing as he tried to win against his own thoughts.

He couldn’t fear the darkness, he had to accept it. He knew he could do it, he just had to be strong.

The current took him in its grasp, flowing around him and dispelling some of the swirling thoughts. He forced himself to relax, forced himself not to think about his unyielding body and his unneeded lungs.

_Just give in and go back to sleep… it’s easier when you sleep._

And so time passed.

In and out, in and out he went.

Every time he awoke relief flooded through as the darkness remained, pushing down heavy on his eyelids. Any residual, worrisome panic soon fled as well when it became apparent each time that no monster swam above him, cold and suffocating to get a rise from his brother.

Perhaps the creature had realised that it was going to get nowhere with him.

He tried to face the surface when he could, not sure if he managed it but trying all the same.

_You’re doing the right thing._

_Goodbye Stan, look after them._

_…Goodbye._

* * *

 

Bright white light pierced through his eyelids, his eyes snapping open without choice as the beam engulfed him. It felt like it was burning, boiling away the watery cocoon around him, the serene bubble popping as his mind refused to register what was happening.

He had no idea how long it had been, or why it had happened, all he knew was that the lighthouse gleamed above him more powerful than he had ever seen it before.

The fog was fast dissipating, hissing as it scorched away inside his head, leaving him more coherent than he had been in what felt like a very long time.

A gasp of air left him, a bubble emerging from his mouth.

His body felt heavy, but a different type of heavy to what he had grown accustomed to, as his fingers twitched without hesitation.

_I can move. Properly move-_

A cackle echoed around him, sharp as glass and twice as vicious.

The heat in his heart grew ice cold and heavy, a stone weight lodged in his chest.

_Stan, what have you done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO this was a big chunk! Fords pov was far too much fun!!  
> And the twins! The twins got to be in this one ;A; i couldn’t not!!


	7. The Ghost of the Lantern Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some cryptids!

“Hey, Dipper! Where are you going?”

“Nowhere!” Dipper jumped as he heard Mabel calling from far down the beach. He hadn’t really meant to wander, just found himself walking, the small journal that Stan had given him nestled in the crook of his arm as his eyes were drawn to the rock pools and caves that had been revealed with the flow of the tide.

His mind had buzzed with possibilities, could he find something fun to take back to Stan for an exhibit? Perhaps help him with a new ghost story like he said he could? Or maybe he’d find something even more interesting…

He frowned suddenly, feet faltering. The book slipped into his hands as he clutched it to him, thoughts going to a conversation he’d had with his Grunkle recently, when he’d started to put together his notes on the odd things he’d seen while they’d been staying there.

_“Supernatural? Kid, there’s nothing mysterious about this old place. Mother nature just took its toll.”_  
“But- you have all those stories! And I checked up on them, found similar ones in the newspaper archives at the library-”  
“Yeah? You think I didn’t do some research of my own? What do you take me for, kid? Half-truths are easier to sell.”  
“Well…what about the lighthouse? Some nights I’m sure the lanterns working again-”  
“You’re seeing things, kid. That old lighthouse hasn’t worked in all the time I’ve lived here.”  
“ **No** _! No, I’m not- Mabel’s seen it to! And some of the townspeople!”  
“Alright, listen kid, I’ll tell you a secret. Nothing good comes from that lighthouse,_ **nothing** _. It’s practically falling apart. Whatever is up there- if there was something up there at all, which there_ **isn’t** _, mind- cannot be trusted. Do you understand?”_

It had left something nagging away at him, a small sense of suspicion as his Grunkle stared at him with a determined, stern expression until he promised he wouldn’t go near the lighthouse or go looking for trouble.

But all that Dipper took from that particular conversation was that he knew something he wasn’t letting on.

And Dipper didn’t know what to make of that, he’d started making notes in his journal that he didn’t actually want anyone else to see.

_None of it makes sense. He lives so close to the sea yet sometimes he looks at it like he hates it._  
He has so many ghost stories and gets all anxious when Mabel so much as paddles even when it’s far too hot to think about doing much else, but I’m sure Soos told me he has his own boat…  
If he’s so scared of the sea why does he live so close?  
And if he thinks the lighthouse is terrible why doesn’t he just sell up and move inland?

_…If he doesn’t want me to look into things why did he give me my own journal?_

Dipper hummed thoughtfully, eyes down on the book as he debated the conundrum of a hypocrisy that was their Grunkle. The man who brushed superstitions aside without blinking but also told them to listen to their gut instincts if it told them they were in danger. A man who said that things lurked in the dark, that they should try and be in before it got too late and that was all they needed to know but laughed and joked if they actually believed any of his ghost stories.

The man who owned a lighthouse, wore the uniform of a lighthouse keeper and yet told them never to go near it, that if there was anything up there lighting the lantern, it couldn’t be trusted.

Contradiction after contradiction after contradiction.

_Well if he won’t tell me, I guess I’ll have to find out on my own._

He really did love a puzzle after all, and solving this one seemed like the perfect way to spend the last few weeks of their summer.

Dipper grinned as he turned back to his sister on the beach, noticing the sizeable sandcastle she had built since the last time he had looked, fully bedecked in seaweed flags and a moat edge of pebbles. “I just wanted to see if the rock pools had anything interesting!”

“Alright, but remember what Grunkle Stan told us! We gotta make sure we’re off the beach before the tide comes in. He’s already upset that you went near the lighthouse! I’d rather not have to help out with an exhibit tomorrow, he won’t let me use enough glitter.”

“Well, he shouldn’t make it so intriguing, should he?” Dipper bit down on his lip, trying not to laugh at the eye roll he was sure he was getting. “And anyway, I think we’d have other things to worry about if we were stuck here when the tide came in.”

“Yeah, yeah, you nerd- oh! I need some windows for my castle, find me something nice while you’re off adventuring?”

“I’ll see what I can do, master architect.”

Dipper gave her a cheeky salute before continuing, ignoring her shouts for specific sea shells if he could find them, thoughts already back on the caves. His mind raced over possible cryptids and ghosts, ran through folklore and old tales that he had found dotted around the town from the shelves of the library to the townspeople in the local diner.

Everyone had a story, mostly something they joked about whenever he tried to gather more information from them. Tales that had been passed down through generations until the details were lost and they were more fantastical than any of them dared to believe.

Monsters in the water? Just stories to stop the children being reckless as they played.

Something calling to people at midnight? Just tales to keep people from going out too late and getting themselves hurt.

Each and every one of them had an excuse, some way to brush the story away and say that nothing was strange in their little old town.

But Dipper was sure there was more to it than that.

Sure he’d seen creatures on the beach when he’d stared out the window at night. The moonlight reflected off them in that way that only happened when something was completely drenched as he saw them drag themselves from the water’s edge and on to dry land.

But by the time he got Mabel looking they’d be gone, or if they were still there she’d shrug tiredly and tell him they were just dogs and that their owners must be nearby. It didn’t matter what he said, she’d always say the same thing with varying levels of annoyance, regardless of him pointing out how late it was for a dog walker or the fact that some of them looked scaly.

Or her other response was that maybe the smaller ones were those weird rodents that Stan said they should stay away from because they made people sick. Dipper had started debating the theory that they were actually poisonous cryptids but as always Mabel would once again be asleep beside him before he could really get the notion out.

At least Soos humoured him, unlike the others. The assistant lighthouse keeper was always his first go to when it came to the things he had seen or heard about and, more often than not, he knew exactly who in the town would know the most even if they themselves no longer believed in the tales.

But bringing up the lighthouse was a sure fire way to get him to shut down and shake his head, agreeing with Stan instantly without an explanation.

_“You just_ **don’t** _go there, dude.”_

…And something about the way he closed off made him think he knew more than he was letting on too, just like Stan.

He just needed some proof. That was all. Proof that what was going was completely out of the ordinary and then maybe _somebody_ would listen to him!

Something that Stan would no doubt brush away like he always did but proof none the less that there was something out here.

He felt the camera in his pocket like a solid reassuring weight as his hand went to find it again, to check it was still where it should be. His face split into a confident grin.

Maybe he’d get lucky and just this once his Grunkle wouldn’t be able to evade the subject and would have to sit down and talk to him about what was really going on in this sleepy little town that had far too many mysteries for its size.

_Besides, I’m not looking for_ **trouble** _… I’m just looking for answers._

“Oh? Is that all you’re looking for?”

Dipper jumped as he found himself staring deep into a rock pool, his own reflection staring back at him, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed.

He hadn’t realised he’d spoken that out loud.

He glanced up and around him, eyes searching for whoever had answered him, the voice filled with good-natured amusement.

Or so he had thought, when he glanced around the wide open beach he couldn’t find anyone that could have been speaking to him.

“Hello?”

There was no answer for a second, and just as he was about to give up and go back to looking through the small pools for items, it spoke again.

“Over here. You want answers, don’t you? What are you looking for?”

Dipper gulped, head snapping up to the voice as it reverberated around the cliff face. His eyes latched onto the gaping dark entrance to the cave, a small shifting sound from inside confirming his suspicions.

He took a few wary steps closer, eyes darting around to check Mabel was still in sight and that he was out of reach of anything that could be waiting just inside the caves entrance.

A small chuckle rumbled out of the opening, the soft sound of clapping reaching him as well.

“Very wise, little one. You shouldn’t be too trusting especially here of all places, these waters are teeming with all sorts.”

“All sorts? Like what?” Dipper found himself zoning back into the voice, eyes no longer checking around suspiciously as he found himself waiting eagerly for the answers to his questions.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve seen them… they come out of the sea at night to roam the beaches once you humans are out of the way.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ve seen so many things! No one ever believes me, but you’ve seen them too?” Dipper found himself quickly opening his journal, pen poised ready before the dots connected in his head and he felt a shiver of excitement as he squinted into the gloom.  “Us humans? Wait, what are you?”

The creature ignored his question, a soft hum of thoughtfulness leaving it as if it was giving him a once over. Dipper found himself hunching slightly at the thought of its inquisitive gaze, feeling vulnerable sat out in the open while the creature hid in the dark.

“You’re from the house beside the lighthouse, aren’t you? How’s the keeper doing?”

“Grunkle Stan?” Dipper didn’t know why but it felt like the atmosphere tightened as he spoke. The words were nonchalant, flippant as if asking after an old friend but there was something sharp underneath it all, quick and ready to snap.

“Grunkle? Oh… you’re related to him, aren’t you, little one?”

He instantly regretted saying anything, cursing the excited enthusiasm that had engulfed him. “I- uhh- well-”

“Oh, don’t worry. Just… an old acquaintance, that’s all.”

The worry eased as Dipper felt curiosity take back over. “Wait, you know him? Grunkle Stan’s… spoken to you before?”

“Of course. The lighthouse keeper used to visit me all the time. We’d sit and talk for hours, always so interested in what else besides me lived out here. Things you humans are usually too scared to even mention let alone discuss their existence.”

“Wait, that would mean…” Dipper frowned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “That doesn’t make sense, Grunkle Stan won’t talk about any of that stuff.”

There was a sharp laugh, tinkling and cold like glass breaking against the wall. Dipper’s stomach clenched at the noise.

“Perhaps he found more than he bargained for out on the water. That tends to stop people asking questions.”

There was a niggling warning sounding in the back of his head that he really shouldn’t be here but the overriding determination to find some proof, to gain a new piece of the puzzle pushed the doubts from his head. Every single thing the creature said brought with it new questions and only minimal answers.

More and more contradictions.

_Grunkle Stan does know more than he’s letting on! I knew it!  
But why is he hiding everything? Why won’t he tell me about it?_

“On the water- you said on the water? Wait, what’s out in the water? Grunkle Stan won’t go out in the sea! He hates it.”

“My, my. Are you sure you know him at all?”

Dipper’s mind went blank at the patronisingly amused voice.

_Do I? What do I actually know about him?  
Nothing makes sense! Nothing about him makes…_

_…Do I know him?_

“I-I… of course I know him!”

“Hmm? Well, it doesn’t sound like it. After all, it doesn’t seem like he trusts you enough to tell you anything about this place. If he had, you wouldn’t have come out here… all alone.”

The threat did not go amiss to Dipper, sitting cold and cloying in his chest but the words were also leaving something bitter and disappointed behind. Something slimy that had burrowed in and was bubbling up his throat as his mind spun around the riddles that the cryptid was weaving. In and out they went, a tangled frayed knot of confusion.

Yet another conundrum. This creature spoke of knowing the lighthouse keeper, of being an old acquaintance that the man had spoken to on a number of occasions but now seemed to be suggesting that he was in danger in its very presence.

Riddle after riddle, puzzle after puzzle.

_I came looking for answers and all I’ve found is more questions!  
I just want the truth!_

He took a few wobbly steps back from the cave’s entrance, feeling the sand beneath his feet as a welcome grounding feeling of reality. He didn’t realise how dark it had gotten until it was suddenly lit up around him, the light not quite reaching the cave but enough of a notion to drag him out of the heavy atmosphere that festered inside the recess in the cliffs.

His eyes followed it to its source, the glow flickering through the glass way up high at the top of the lighthouse.

_…I just want some answers._

“Do you know about the ghost in the lantern room?”

“The ghost?” The words were a small intrigued whisper, a puzzled lilt that gave Dipper courage as he stood out of reach in the sand, his back to the cave’s entrance.

Stan had told them things lurked in the darkness.

You just had to show them who was boss.

He squared his shoulders, hoping to pretend he had been unaffected by the creature’s words as he shrugged, arms gesturing flippantly. “Yeah, you know, whatever it is that lights the lantern from time to time. I assume it’s the ghost of an old lighthouse keeper, what else would try and light it?”

The laughter that followed, ricocheting off the stone into tinkling shards, set the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“A ghost? Oh, is _that_ what he’s told you? Well, I guess what lights the lantern _is_ a ghost of its former self.”

Dipper frowned, still staring at the light, seeing a small figure standing on the edge of the balcony around the lantern room, as he digested the creature’s words. “A ghost of its former… What does that even mean?”

“My. You do have a most puzzling image of the lighthouse keeper, don’t you? If I didn’t know better I’d say we were talking about completely different people…”

Dipper’s eyes widened, the words slipping in one ear and out the other as just for a moment he saw a familiar movement in the figure at the top of the lighthouse.

_That looks like… No, I’m too far away, I’m just imagining things._  
There’s no way that’s Grunkle Stan. It couldn’t possibly be.  
He told us never to go up there…

_“My, my. Are you sure you know him at all?”_

He trembled at the insidious doubt that slid down his spine and left him cold.

_I don’t know- No! This is wrong!_

His hand gripped around the journal, a moment of calm coming with it as the memory of a heavy jacket surrounding him gave him comfort, a peaceful warm moment shared between just the two of them.

_“So, what do you say, kid? Ready to start writing your own adventures?”_

The small button nestled safely in his pocket at all times, his first found treasure on the beach, jostled against him, another definite in his stream of thought to push away the doubts. To firmly ground him.

_It’s this creature! Filling my head with doubts! Stan wouldn’t… he just wouldn’t!  
…Would he?_

It wasn’t anything, all circumstantial, brought on by this creature trying to twist his mind and make him doubt what he _did_ know. It was trying to bend the truth, make it seem like Stan was the one that couldn’t be trusted, but that couldn’t be right.

After all, it was Stan who had told him he couldn’t trust whatever it was that lit the lantern.

_Why would Grunkle Stan tell us not to trust him?_

But even as he shook the thought from his head, as he slipped a hand into his pocket to feel along the embossed face of the button, he couldn’t help the small part of his brain that kept showing him the silhouette in the light, the person stood against the rail, so small, so insignificant but for a second he had been so sure…

“Looks like you’re very far from home, little one.” The creature tutted from the darkness behind him, suddenly closer than it had ever been. A shiver slipped down Dipper’s spine as he heard it slink even further forward out of the depths of the cave. “Look how dark it’s gotten while we spoke.”

“Y-yeah, I should… I should get going.” Dipper turned back to look into the cave, taking hasty steps backwards as he felt it get closer and closer. Suddenly, everything he had learned didn’t seem quite worth the consequences.

Or that’s what his gut was telling him, and Grunkle Stan _had_ told him to listen to his instincts.

It was time to get going.

“Thanks for all the information.”

“So soon? Stay, I’ll make sure to get you home safely, there’s so much more for us to discuss.”

The voice seemed far too sickly sweet for Dipper’s liking, persuasive and sticky like honey and he was finding it hard to come up with arguments against it. “Oh, uhm- well, you see-”

“Dipper? Dipper, where are you? I’ve been waiting for ages!”

Dipper snapped out of the hold, eyes darting over to the small light that was his sister in one of her glow in the dark sweaters. He gave a sigh of relief as he felt the hold vanish from him, taking quick darting steps away from the allure of the voice. “C-Coming!”

A soft hiss emanated from the cave, his eyes drawing over to the noise without a thought, catching the glint of glowing white eyes. He was sure he caught sight of sinewy scaled arms gripping at the stone wall as it slunk towards him out of the crevice, clawed sharp talons dragging across the surface. That is until the light of the lantern above them hit it and the hiss turned painful, the creature shirking away back into the darkness until only the venomous eyes remained, pointedly staring away from him and towards where the lighthouse was as if it was the bane of its existence.

Before he could question whatever it was further, a hand grabbed his, tugging him back towards the Shack without listening to his protests.

A voice floated after him, words he was not sure were meant for him as they were spat out in a slew of vicious hatred.

“The beast take the keeper of the cipher light.”

_The beast?_   
  


* * *

  
The light hadn’t lasted long that night, it had never really been all that bright to begin with, barely reaching him where he stood on the shore. So dim it would have never reached the waves.

By the time they were home it was long gone and Stan, much to his shock, was in the house scolding them for taking so long, his face and words frantic as he looked them over.

Dipper watched him suspiciously, mind still on what he thought he had seen but guilt and shame soon descended over the mistrust, engulfing him as Stan continued his ministrations, as he began to doubt himself.

Mabel had already brushed the subject aside as soon as he brought it up as they scampered home, saying that they already knew something was up there, mystery solved. A trick of the light that he had seen anyone up there with the light itself, or if there was someone up there then it was nothing to look into- Stan had _told_ them to stay away.

_He’s only trying to keep us safe._

The words crept through his mind, hissing and spitting as Stan gave a deep sigh of relief, done with his checks. He ruffled their hair, obviously wanting some kind of contact but his face was strained and tired without a hint of its usual mirth as if he didn’t know quite what to do now.

Before the pair could say anything he stood up and walked away without another scolding word.

Dipper tried not to think about how the hand had shook in his hair, how Mabel was staring dejectedly at the floor, apologies and excuses stuck to her tongue because none of them seemed like they would help matters in that moment.

Tried not to think about mistrust and doubts and all the questions he had when this was the first time he had really seen the man quite this angry and concerned. Normally there was a gruff joke, a sly remark, something- anything to show that he wasn’t capable of that much emotion.

But not this time, though Dipper knew why upon checking the clocks.

He was meant to be _smart_.

It didn’t matter what creatures or cryptids lurked in the darkness.

The tide had been coming in, if Mabel hadn’t grabbed him, they could have been stranded out there.

_Stan told us both- time and time again. He told you to be wary of the sea, to be careful. The sea doesn’t care. He_ **trusted** _you to be able to go out alone._

Foolish, reckless- he had made sure to check the tide times and still he’d gotten distracted, let himself get lost in an odd conversation that had left him wishing he’d never asked the questions to begin with.

“Your dinners on the table, it’s probably cold now.”

Dipper winced as Mabel flinched at the disheartened voice, Stan speaking from the living room instead of joining them like he usually did to see what trouble they’d gotten themselves into that day.

Somehow the upset disappointment was worse than the scolding.

And yet even though he tried to push the voice away, a small part of him knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew what their Grunkle was hiding.

The button in his pocket felt as heavy as the solid weight in his chest.

_He trusted you, why can’t you trust him?_   
  


* * *

  
“Dipper! We can’t go up there!”

“But, Mabel-”

Dipper’s voice cracked as he spoke, trying to yell above the brewing storm that was beginning to swirl and crackle overhead.

He turned away from her as he gripped tightly onto his hat against the high winds. They were picking up around them, trying to tug at his clothing and push him back down the path towards his sister. But even with the forces of nature seemingly trying to warn him, he couldn’t take his eyes off the beacon above him.

The lighthouse had never been so bright before.

There was no questioning it this time, no excuse that anyone could come up with to tell him that it was a trick of the light or some ghostly apparition.

The lighthouse lantern was working, there was no other alternative. The light swept across the bay, a long low arc that cut through the static air, burned through the storm clouds to leave a perfect halo in the centre of the water.

_Wait, shouldn’t the light still be arcing around?_

_Doesn’t matter! I need to know what is- no,_ **who’s** _lighting it!_

“Stan told us not to!”

Dipper ignored her, eyes still glued to the light, every time he blinked the image stained his retinas as he fought to see a shadowy figure far above them.

“He doesn’t want us to get hurt, bro! That’s all! Come on, this isn’t that important, right?”

Dipper felt his heart tug and his stomach drop, his footfalls faltering at her words.

_“…that lighthouse is falling apart… I’ve told you, kid, there’s nothing up there and if there is it’s nothing good… I’d rather your parents didn’t kill me for letting you get hurt, especially chasing some ghost.”_

The look on Stan’s face when they’d almost got stranded by the tide loomed up in his mind’s eye, a nauseous pit opening in his stomach. The button he still carried seemed to burn a hole through his pocket.

He hadn’t taken it out still, using it as a reminder to stay careful, to remember what mattered.

And it added a layer of shame now, deep in the pit of his stomach, dragging him down. It was no longer a grounding presence as he tried to force himself forwards and away from the doubts Mabel and it was dragging to the surface.

They slid in with ease though, over the tumultuous voices spinning around his mind.

What if Stan was just trying to keep them safe? What if there wasn’t some big mystery?

What if he got up there and there was nothing there but a fried out lantern, its circuits giving it one last ghost of a chance before it died completely?

For all he knew Stan had been trying to get the light functional again and hadn’t wanted to let on until he’d succeeded.

“Let’s just go find him, yeah? And- and go up together if he’ll let us! That way you’ll get your answers, right? And then we won’t get sulky Grunkle, ‘cause sulky Grunkle is the worst-”

Something in her words made him snap, the doubts vanishing under a now much louder colder train of thought.

“Mabel, we already _tried_ to find him!” Dipper turned fully towards her, arms gesticulating wildly as he went, face frantic and doubtful. He tried not to shudder as the rain hit his exposed arms, letting it cool the guilt and shame out of his mind. It started to soak through his clothing, burrowing deeper and deeper until the remaining doubts in his heart went cold and the facts of the matter became visible. No more lies, no more questions, no more instincts, just cold hard facts. “Don’t you see? We looked high and low for him and the reason we couldn’t find him is because he’s the one up there!”

Mabel frowned, her face indecisive as she squinted up towards the light. “I dunno, bro, that doesn’t sound right. Why would he-”

“Exactly! That’s what I need to find out. I need to know what he’s hiding up there.”

He spun back around, continuing his march towards the lighthouse. The clouds were coming in thick and fast now and he was glad for the cover that his small hat allowed him.

“Dipper! Wait.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder as Mabel caught up to him but he shook his head, ploughing on into the rain that was starting to hammer down around them. “Mabel, stay in the house! I just want to know what’s going on.”

“You’re not going on your own, Dip-Dop. Mystery twins, remember?”

Dipper froze, turning to her. He hated that she looked so serious, so sad but determined. The look didn’t suit her but it seemed his words had finally gotten through. He tried to smile, a grateful look but one that held no real happiness to it. “Yeah, OK, then let’s get moving and get out of this rain.”

“Y-yeah! I mean if I’d have known I would have brought my umbrella! Wool sweaters aren’t really the best for this kind of weather even if they do look amazing.” Mabel tried to smile but when it fell flat she tugged on his hand, the pair of them running towards the old tower that had been a familiar sight since they had joined Stan for the summer.

Dipper grit his teeth, tightening his hand around Mabel’s as they came to the door. He felt Mabel go to glance around her, face nervous and worried as if they were being watched. He gave her hand a tug, refusing to look around, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

He was sure he could hear whispers in the darkness, whistling through the wind to settle at his ear, laughter and yells clattering down with the rain. Something told him turning around now wasn’t an option, thoughts bubbling up of the creature in the cave slinking up behind him, its white eyes fixed and ready to pounce if he acknowledged it was there.

_“Kids, I’m going to tell you a secret my Ma told me, OK? You’re right, there are…things, out there in the darkness. And you should never be afraid of them, never- but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful. So, no, you’re not allowed to go out when it’s dark, that’s a rule- No. No arguments, Dipper. Otherwise you’ll end up like me, and you don’t want that, now do you?”_

The words slipped in unbidden, along with stories that he had heard from Stan’s tours. You can’t show you’re afraid, can’t acknowledge them. It gives them power.

So instead he pressed forward, let the gazes’ burn into the back of his head as if they were mere annoyances, felt more than saw Mabel come up beside him to help push against the door as if she was remembering the words too and was more than willing to leave the encroaching darkness far behind them.

The door opened without a struggle but it creaked long and low, a painful protest against them until it cracked against the wall and sent a jolt through Dipper’s already fraying nerves.

The pair of them slipped inside out of the rain, closing it quickly to shut out the gloom. A different more natural darkness fell over them, a silent stillness forming as they were sealed off from the rain and wind.

Dipper felt his stomach twist apprehensively, the winding staircase looming up long and narrow before them.

He had wanted an adventure this summer, had wanted to solve the mysteries of this sleepy little town where everything and nothing seemed to happen.

…Now he wasn’t so sure his wish should have been granted.

“Let’s get going. No point hanging around now, right?”

Dipper nodded to Mabel’s very hesitant question before realising how hard it was to see. “Y-yeah- but watch your step. These are not stairs I think either of us will want to take a tumble down.”

Mabel huffed, amused. “Yeah, cause our stair sledges were such a success that I wanted to do that ever again anyway.” A chuckle escaped both of them, trying it’s best to fizzle out the atmosphere but it was dampened by the cold. “Hang on, let’s see if this still has some juice in it…”

“Mabel?”

Dipper frowned as she didn’t answer him, waiting for her to continue. All he heard was shuffling until a small glow emanated from his sister’s sweater.

“There we go! That should help!” Mabel beamed, hands on her hips as if waiting for Dipper to praise her ingenuity.

“You… just got soaked, Mabel and that’s your brilliant plan?”

“Yeah! Mean I was worried that it wouldn’t turn on but points for optimism, am I right?”

“Mabel, a lot worse could have happened than it just not coming on. You are completely soaked-”

“Yeesh, alright spoil sport, how about you use that brain of yours for why we’re here instead?” Mabel smirked as Dipper’s words became strangled, his voice cracking in disbelief as she tried to wring out her sweater a bit without turning off the light. She sighed when Dipper didn’t seem convinced, eyes still warily watching her. “Come _on_ , Dipper, we’re in the _lighthouse_. I mean, no use turning back now, we’re already gonna get told off. Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along?”

“But-”

“Dipper, it’s navigating the stairs with some light, or falling down them without it. You pick. I for one would like to see.”

Dipper shook himself, nodding slowly as he turned back to the steps. “Yeah, OK, but as soon as we’re near enough to the light that we don’t need yours, you turn it _off_ , OK?”

Mabel rolled her eyes, her voice imitating Dippers. “Thanks Mabel! That’s a brilliant plan, Mabel!”

“…Mabel?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll turn it off when we don’t need it, yada yada- can we get moving already?”  
  


* * *

  
“So… where is he, Dipper?”

Dipper gulped at the trepidation in Mabel’s voice. Any humour they had found between themselves had fallen away rapidly as they traversed the steps, each footfalls filling both of them with foreboding as the light started to become visible.

Stan had warned them that whatever turned the light on couldn’t be trusted.

And yet they had blindly walked towards it, not knowing what they would find once they entered the lantern room.

The room below it had been the kick to the gut though.

The room filled with streams of light that seemed to highlight all the things he didn’t want to see.

Dipper had so wanted to be wrong, knew that Mabel wanted him to be wrong as the button in his pocket grew heavier and heavier the closer they got as if trying to pull him back down the steps.

Now it was just a lump of cold metal in his pocket, the desk below where they now stood so obviously Stan’s with the photos and the littered exhibit designs.

_It was him! All along it was him and he never said a word!_

Mabel had made a sad noise at seeing her own smiling face, her face a contention of emotions as she tried to reason against it all.

“He- he was trying to keep us safe. This place is- falling apart, that’s what he said. It’s dangerous in here.”

Dipper didn’t have the heart to point out that the lighthouse looked well kept.

“He told us not to trust whatever lit the lantern, Mabel.”

“That’s- he had a reason to keep this all secret! I bet there was a reason… We just have to ask him!”

And before he could stop her she had bolted up the steps, taking them two at a time in her haste to get to the lantern room.

All he could do was follow, he wanted answers more than anything.

That was all he’d ever wanted. He just wanted to solve the mystery.

He’d never wanted to hurt Mabel.

And so here they were, at the top of the lighthouse, bathed in light and yet still unable to see what they had come all the way up here for.

“Dipper, where is he?”

There was no one there but them.

Dipper shook his head, wandering another circuit around the bulb, one hand up and cupping his face so he couldn’t stare at it directly. But no matter how hard he tried to will something or someone into existence, the truth of the matter was that the room was just too small for anyone to hide from them.

The thought sent a nauseating lurch through his stomach.

_What if I’m wrong still? What if Stan has an office below to try and stop the light coming on? What if he didn’t let us up here because it_ **is** _dangerous and he’s been trying to stop whatever has been turning it on-_

“Dipper! Dipper! I found him!”

He jumped at the voice, spinning until he caught sight of the open door to the balcony. “Mabel!” He jumped forward, panic overflowing through his tattered nerves, images flashing behind his eyes of Mabel getting too close to the edge, or of her having found their Grunkle in bad shape out on the balcony-

He gave a sigh of relief when he found her clinging to the rail, staring out to sea with a pair of binoculars. “Mabel, don’t do that to me- wait, where did you get those?”

“They were on the floor here.” She gestured down at the metal flooring of the balcony before holding them out to him gleefully. “Look Dipper! That boat out there!”

“Out there? Who would be sailing in a storm like… this…” Dipper gulped as he put two and two together, grabbing the offered binoculars.

The storm raged above them as he tried to find whatever Mabel had seen and he wondered if his abrupt awareness of it was because he was suddenly acutely conscious of the danger. It felt like they could be plucked from the tower at any moment. The wind howled and screamed around them, the rain hit the glass hard and fast as if trying to viciously find a way inside, and all the while worry slipped colder than all of it through his core as he realised just how bad it would be to be caught right in the eye of it, out at sea.

That was when he found it, the boat in amongst the tempestuous waves. The little toy of a boat trying not to capsize to the onslaught, the sail taunt and bowing.

He searched its deck for the sailor, the worry gnawing at his insides until he finally found him with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much but it was enough to know he was alive. He’d expected him to be at the helm or sail but instead he was at the side of the boat, over the side in fact but it looked like he had pulled himself back up most of the way. Completely drenched and a little the worse for wear but otherwise unscathed from the slightly blurry image Dipper could capture.

But the bit that really made Dipper stop and re-evaluate everything was the fact that he seemed to be heaving someone else out of the water. Drenched and barely visible under a large coat, whoever it was seemed to slump over the side, as if the exertion of the ordeal had gotten to them, once Stan dragged them up and on to the boat.

“See? He’s saving someone, Dipper! He’s saving someone, and you thought we couldn’t trust him!” Mabel shoved him playfully, her voice relieved and happy again even though she got a small upset noise for her efforts as she dislodged him and he had to find the boat again.

He frowned, his heart rejoicing too but his mind conflicted over all the small scraps of information he had gleaned over the summer.

“But the light- he said the light was bad-”

“OK, so what if it is? If he’s saving someone surely that’s a good thing?”

The light seemed to dim as they both stared at one another, twin looks of alarm crossing their faces as they turned back to the room.

“No, don’t go out!”

“We- he said we couldn’t trust the light, Mabel. Maybe this is a good thing.”

Mabel shot him a look, stepping back towards the room as Dipper reached a hand out and grabbed her. She tried to tug away from him, her voice frantic and annoyed. “Come on, Dipper! How’s Grunkle Stan going to get back without it?” She looked at him pleadingly, a small clicking behind them signalling the lights dwindling force. “It doesn’t matter if you trust him! We can’t not help him get back!”

Dipper flinched at the image her words conjured up, his hand dropping like she’d burned him. “Right! Of course.”

“You can ask your questions later when he’s safe and sound!”

Dipper winced at the scolding, shaking his head as he went to open the door. “No, that’s- it doesn’t matter against getting him back.”

“Right, so the light stays on regardless of what we think of it.”

Dipper nodded, unable to say anything. His mind still warred, a raging tempest to compete against the one above their heads. There was something about this room that unnerved him, something about this entire situation that seemed so incredibly off that if he was honest with himself if he just wanted that light off entirely.

Something about it all seemed so wrong, the storm was raging above them but it felt like only the beginning, something felt like it could get infinitesimally worse but he didn’t know _why_.

Stan told them not to trust it, yet now they were relying on it.

_No! That doesn’t matter. What matters is making sure Grunkle Stan gets home! He’s saving someone, the least you can do is try and help!_

Stan told them never to come up here but if they hadn’t then who would be up here to help him?

Before Mabel put a foot over the threshold, there was a final sounding clunk and the light sparked back into life. She gave a small noise of pain, turning away from it and back towards the sea, eyes streaming.

“Mabel! Are you OK?”

“Yeah, just gimme a second- besides! Check on Grunkle Stan!”

“R-right! Yeah!”

Dipper rushed forward again, not bothering with the binoculars he settled on looking for the small ship bobbing in the water, relieved when he found it hadn’t overturned. “He’s OK, the boat seems OK!” He pointed out towards it as Mabel rubbed at her eyes and came up beside him. “See? I’m sure he’ll be coming back any second now, we just have to-”

“Dipper, is that… do you see that?”

Dipper froze at Mabel’s warbling voice, the relief from earlier vanishing to a hushed dread he never wanted to hear again. His eyes slowly followed her pointing finger towards the water just to the side of Stan’s boat.

There wasn’t time to grab the binoculars and focus on it, nor did he really feel he wanted to. A large dark blur loomed in the distance, under the surface of the waves and much larger than the little toy boat. Dipper almost tried to convince himself that it was just rocks under the surface that they hadn’t noticed before, but the dark shape was slowly growing larger as it dragged itself from the depths towards the light. “W-what is that?”

“I don’t- Grunkle Stan!” Mabel screamed, Dipper cringing to the side as she tried her hardest to be heard across the bay. “Grunkle Stan! Behind you!”

“He can’t hear us from here.” Dipper fumbled for the binoculars, not knowing what else to do as they stood atop their perch. They couldn’t get him to hear that was for sure, all they could do was keep an eye on him and hope for the best. Mabel stood next to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet and asking questions as he struggled to find the ship again through the lenses.

“Well? Is he moving? Is the boat coming back?”

“No, not yet, he’s still helping that person.” He watched worriedly as Stan crouched over the person on the ship, both of them visibly exhausted from the little he could see. “Come on, Grunkle Stan! Get out of there!” The words came out in a fervent hiss, not a shout like his sister’s, just a soft prayer to will him into action.

“Grunkle Stan! Move!”

“Mabel!” Dipper hissed, pulling away from the binoculars to glare at her. But her face was too stricken for him to really snap at her as he turned back to the waves, seeing the full picture instead of the small tunnel vision the binoculars had afforded him. The breath left him in a puff of mist, a gasp of terror. The shape had grown still larger, entirely encompassing the small boat in the distance and Dipper’s outlook on it all turned bleak. The lighthouse no longer matters, none of it did, all that mattered was that something was fast approaching their Grunkle and he didn’t seem to realise. Theories and worries zooming round his head from all the bits and pieces he’d read over the last few weeks.

_Come on, Grunkle Stan! Make it home safe._

Any still questioning thoughts screeched to a halt, a mantra now running around his head instead, a protective wish as he sought out their Grunkle one more time. Just as he found him again, Stan shot up from his crouched position beside the person he had heaved from the water. He stumbled hastily to the side of the boat to look over into the water in a short spurt of energy that Dipper found hard to fathom he still had. He recoiled back just as quickly, spinning around.

“What’s happening, bro? Please don’t leave me hanging ‘cause that thing is getting closer and closer and I really don’t want to know what happens when it gets to the surface.”

“He’s seen it too! He seems to have cottoned on.”

His stomach twisted in a mix of worry and grateful relief that the old man had noticed as Mabel’s hand slipped into his, a welcome grounding for both of them.

“He’s on his way back, right? He’ll get out of there?”

“Of course he will. You trust him, right?”

Dipper couldn’t help smiling as Mabel tightened her grip, obviously grateful at his careful words even if he kept his eyes glued to the binoculars and the boat visible through them.

_It doesn’t matter what happened, or if you lied, or- none of it! All that matters is that you get home. Get out of there! That thing can’t get you, it can’t- I can’t- I need to say sorry still for not listening to you-_

Stan slipped on the deck, making Dipper hiss as he watched him struggle to his feet again, hand raised against the ferocious winds that tore at him.

He couldn’t help it then, couldn’t help moving ever so slightly until it was the waves and not the boat in his vision.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in his chest. Mabel’s frantic voice beside him, and the howling winds turned to white noise behind his own ragged breaths as his throat seemed to close up tight in fear.

The shape was no longer a blur to him. Still deep below the waves but he could see thick black tendrils rippling outwards with the waves. Whatever it was, was massive, his mind unable to comprehend what cryptid would achieve that immense size and form that seemed to shift and bubble as he stared at it.

A large yellow eye had opened beneath the waves, to the side of the boat that Stan had glanced down from, as if had been mocking him from the depths.

Even though Stan had pulled away, the slitted gaze was very obviously focused on the boat and what resided inside, locked on to its prey and Dipper found he couldn’t voice any of his silent panic to his still flustered sister.

_Get away from him! Whatever you are, stay away! Don’t you touch him!_

“Wait, Dipper, did you hear that-”

Before Mabel could finish her sentence the light gave a resounding metallic noise and launched them into darkness.

The last image Dipper saw was Stan’s small figure as he launched himself across the deck towards the helm, trying to escape whatever beast was coming for them.

And then the darkness stripped him of sight.

A vicious snarl echoed through his head, sharp as glass and agonising to remember as they finally made sense. He dropped the now useless binoculars to his feet, his hand grasping the small memento in a moment of blind panic as his other hand stayed tight to Mabel’s.

_“The beast take the keeper of the cipher light.”_

“Grunkle Stan!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think in order the cryptids that Dipper saw were -
> 
> Dobhar-chú  
> Lavellan  
> And a Grindylow (possibly, it’s what I see in the cave but I left it intentionally vague so feel free to ignore this entirely - i just thought it’d be interesting as it’d be a creature that wouldn’t prey on adults at all and therefore Stan/Ford might not have ever known to warn about it when it never identified itself.)
> 
> …I love researching and it seems accidentally go for nearby myths a lot? XD I’m super happy to add descriptions if anyone wants them/asks ♥
> 
> Oh! And the ‘Beast take the Keeper’ line came from ‘The Eddystone Light’ Sea Shanty. It got entirely stuck in my head ages ago before I even started writing any lighthouse keeper stuff and Ran got flailed at insistently- so I’m really glad they liked my idea ♥
> 
> Then the phosphorus flashed in her seaweed hair  
> I looked again, but she wasn’t there  
> But I heard her voice echoing back through the night  
> The devil take the keeper of the eddystone light 
> 
> …Yeah that last line inspired ^o^
> 
> Also Stan being scared on an actual physical thing instead of a supernatural one felt really sad but well placed. Check when the tides are coming in guys! ♥


	8. The Lights That Guide Us Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I lied cause I get caught up every time… I think this has been my favourite so far - I mean I got tired out writing it. (Warnings for drowning and… general peril?)

The light came on without warning that night.

Stan had been pacing when it happened. Back and forth. Back and forth. Just like he had done every night for the last week.

The kids would notice soon, whether it was the bags beneath his eyes or the snappish remarks he didn’t mean to give. They were smart, he was sure one of them would say something soon enough if he wasn’t careful, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care.

Sure, he felt ashamed for how he’d yelled at them when they’d come home late, but he hadn’t been able to think how to apologise, not through the descending fog that he was running out of time. How did he tell them that they had scared him? Had absolutely _terrified_ him? That somehow he felt like he’d already lost one person that day and that the fear of losing them too had sent him over the edge, his worries magnified to a degree he didn’t even know he was capable of feeling?

He couldn’t lose them, the sea had already taken one person from him and the thought of them stranded on the beach, stuck where he couldn’t reach them with the tide getting higher and higher…

It had just been another hit to the already crumbling walls around his heart.

He wasn’t sure he could hold out to any more hits.

And so he grew distant, pulled himself away. He fretted about them throughout the day, made sure they were safe, made sure to keep a close watch on them until they were sound asleep. Then, and only then, would he go straight to the lighthouse to fret over the other worry that had splintered and cracked the wall in the first place that day.

Ford had said goodbye to him.

He’d never said goodbye to him before.

And he hadn’t heard anything since.

So every night he found himself tirelessly working, not that he didn’t always but with the kids he’d grown lax, needed any energy he had spare to spend with them and so his hours at the lighthouse had grown shorter. His eyes had drifted shut more often, needing what rest he could gather for the small bright whirlwinds that had invaded his home.

Or that’s what he called them under his breath, the gruffness hiding soft warm endearment.

That was until Ford had said goodbye. Now all he felt was bitter regret and cold cloying panic that he had done it all wrong.

_You had one job,_ **one** _and now look at you, look at what you’ve done._

He’d focused on something else just once and he had lost Ford completely.

The argument he had had with the whispering familiar voice had hurt, he had denied it entirely, assuming that it couldn’t have been Ford. It had to be some trickster pretending to be him, especially when his brother had been placating and calm the next visit. He had spoken about their childhoods, reminded Stan of what he was trying to get back. His twin, their adventures, the one person that had meant the world to him before he’d brought that world crumbling down around him.

But none of that mattered now, the argument, the encouragement.

Nothing felt as painful as the silent void that had been left behind.

“ _…Goodbye, Stan.”_

“Stop it. Stop it, stop it- _Stop it_!”

Whenever he closed his eyes, the voice would ring through his head and up he’d get to pace again.

He was out on the balcony when it happened. The light bathed him, bright and white just like it did in his dreams, just like it had that night so many years ago.

It took him a minute to realise it was actually happening. That the light after all this time had finally come on in all its bountiful glory just as he felt the tug of hopelessness sinking him to his knees.

It burned away the forlorn feeling, heated him up from the inside out as it beamed across the bay and woke him from the fog of pain he’d been restlessly sitting in since his world had crumbled around him once more.

The binoculars he’d been grasping white-knuckled in his hand fell to the balcony floor with a loud clunk, helping to draw him back physically into reality as the light brought his mind back to sharp focus.

And, just as quickly, a new determination and realisation flooded through him, as if the light was helping him with his reasoning as well as his navigation.

It was telling him what he needed to do, telling him where he needed to go.

_I need to get out on the water._  
I’m coming, Sixer! Don’t you give up on me now!  
  


* * *

  
If Stan didn’t know any better he’d have almost assumed he was back in one of his nightmares.

Rain peppered across his face and arms, burning shards of ice that made his eyes squint as he forced himself to continue locking on to the beacon the lantern was sending him. The wind howled and tore at him from every angle, as if it couldn’t decide which direction it wanted to attack him from. It left him breathless, left him to hold on tight as it yanked and tugged at him, left him fighting with the sail in an effort to combat the vicious swipes it continuously sent at him.

But even so, he couldn’t turn away from the heart of the storm. Even as he fought the wind and waves for control, as the roar of the wind and thunder left a deafening ring in its wake that he wasn’t entirely sure would ever truly leave him, he couldn’t _stop now_.

It was like he was channelling the tempest, channelling an energy and strength that could not be swayed. Drawn into its epicentre, right into the eye of the storm even as the full force of Mother Nature tried to bar him entry.

A vicious grim twist of a grin slid across his face, more gritting teeth and a snarling grimace than anything that could truly be said to contain any real mirth, but it was the only thing he could muster in that moment.

A boom of a laugh clattered out of him, as he crested a wave and his sails caught, a sudden burst of momentum speeding him into the circle of light that had drawn him all this way. Victorious and heady, his own voice entered the fray, his own mocking thunder, as the storm tried to drown him out, his eyes sparking with determination and defiance.

The storm would not break him, he would get to his destination.

And in that frame of mind he knew this couldn’t be another nightmare, nor even a wishful dream. That it couldn’t all be in his mind, not as the storm took over his senses, as salt water filled his mouth and covered his skin, tugging insistently as it dried, or as the cresting waves foamed up on to the deck at every opportunity. No, it couldn’t be, as his hands stung from the burn of ropes as he kept everything in check, as he winced as the wheel caught him off guard and lurched away from him, smacking with force into his arm before he caught hold of it once more.

Through it all, he knew that no matter how vivid his resting mind could be, it could never drum up _this_.

This fight with the world, this push and pull to get his brother back that all rested on how far he could go.

No, his nightmares were never so kind as to leave him with this amount of willpower. The crushing sense of failure that had followed him night after night now but a speck of dust that had blown away in the tempest to leave him with a solid wall of resolve, his purpose a raging fire in his chest that even the storm could not dampen.

No, this was not a dream.

And Ford needed him.

That was all that mattered.

The light blossomed along the deck as he breached the circle, bringing with it a new wave of hope as he found himself another step closer to his goal. He kept his eyes locked to the centremost point, something guiding him still further even as the storm continued to bubble and fizz above him. The rain turned warm in the wake of the light, still torrential and still hindering his movement forward but at least less painful, less freezing as he pushed ever forward.

Or perhaps his skin was just growing numb to the onslaught.

Just as an odd sigh of relief echoed out of him at the feel of warmth as it soaked into his coat, it grew too hot to handle, his head jolting instinctively away from the hot flecks of water that were burrowing into his skin. He raised a hand to shield himself, eyes turning out of the storm entirely and just for a second, the winds died down entirely, a hush of absolute silence, just for a beat as his gaze hit the water.

_There._

There was nothing to be seen, just the green waves in the lanterns light but somehow he knew he was there, he had found him after all these years.

The silent bubble burst, a loud crack of thunder heralding the assault as water pummelled back onto his frame, the thud of it against the wood bringing him back to his senses as he struggled towards the side of the boat. For a second it felt like he’d been at the top of the lighthouse, completely disconnected from the world as he watched it from above until suddenly the storm broke through the glass, cracked every single pane and dug its way in, tooth and claw, to tear apart his small safe haven.

His mouth tugged upwards at the thought, a snide snarl of a smirk resting deep within his core.

He never had been one to stay put and stay safe.

The coarse wood grounded him as he skidded across the deck and managed to catch onto the side of the boat, even as another wave crashed across the deck and threatened to knock him down with it.

He searched the waters below him, the light impossibly burning a hole through the water as if it was opening a portal to the bottom of the sea. If he narrowed his eyes, he was sure he could see the seafloor, see the sand and rocks, the creatures that darted confused and disorientated by the blinding light that had engulfed their abyss of a home. But he wasn’t trying to focus on that, he was trying to focus on the even more impossible.

Trying to focus on his brother that should be there. Should still somehow, after 30 years submerged in the gloom, come back to him unhurt, breathing and whole.

“Ford.”

A gasp tumbled out of him, the air knocked out of his lungs as if something solid had punched him in the gut when he found him, a bundle of struggling muscles trying to push his way through the depths.

His hands gripped tighter as he leant over the railing, the sting in his hands as salt water found the rope burns insignificant against the pounding of his heart against his ribcage. There was a tightness to his chest that heralded a panic that even fighting through the tempestuous weather hadn’t been able to drum out of him.

“Come on, Sixer, I’m right here. All you gotta do is keep fighting.” Stan couldn’t help the words that slipped out, his own resolve, his own determination trying to bleed out of him and into his brother, willing him upwards. He was getting closer but he could see how taxing it was becoming, could see how his coat twisted around him and made his movements harder. He could feel the rain drumming on his back, making it hard for him to stand, and wondered whether it was even a sliver of what his brother was feeling as all that water, all that distance between them pressed onto his body, making his upwards fight a vicious and hard fought battle that he wasn’t sure he could tackle alone.

_He doesn’t have to. I’m here._

Stan’s eyes widened as he pulled himself upwards and glanced around the boat quickly, looking for anything that could help him. Everything he had done had led up to this moment, he had fought so hard to get his brother back and there was nothing that was going to stand in between him and making sure Ford got out of this safe and sound.

Ford didn’t have to tackle this alone, Stan was going to make sure this was a hard fought _victory_ no matter what it meant for him.

But even as he tried to recall what the best course of action would be, the panic was starting to fizzle through the determination. Time wasn’t on his side and every second he dallied was another second Ford was stuck beneath the water. The sounds of his brother’s gurgling breaths stuttered through the wind, chased by a lingering laughter that seemed to crest and wane with the waves against the ship.

_No time, no time, gotta help him, gotta save him- just got to figure out how-_

He knew what he should do, knew that he had already broken the rules of the sea by coming out alone in the middle of a storm to save someone. Knew that the silly foolhardy decision had lost many a sailor his life to the waves by trying to be a hero but that hadn’t stopped him. And now he knew that there was a way to do things, to tie himself down before he did anything reckless, keep a firm grasp to the only thing that would save them both so that he all his efforts weren’t in vain.

But that would take time.

And that was the one thing he didn’t have in that moment.

His eyes went from the rope waiting for him, the supplies that were always on his boat in case of an emergency and back over the side, to his brother whose strength was waning, his arms and legs moving sluggishly through the water. He was trying his best, he could see that, but no amount of willpower on his part was going to help him get to the surface.

There was only so long he could hold his breath for and Stan knew that he had been under for a _very_ long time.

_There’s no time for this._

He took a deep breath, pushing every thought to one side as they threatened to engulf him, threatened to leave him lost to the storm until it was too late.

And just as before, the tempest now inside his head broke, leaving him with only one option and a complete lack of concern for his own safety as he disregarded the items he knew were there purely for this purpose.

He cleared his mind, ignored the warning bells and insidious fears of failure. Let the resolve bury back into him, warm and heated and all consuming.

_You’ve got a job to do. It’d both of you or neither of you._

And then with that last thought and his gaze firmly glued to Ford-

He plunged into the deep.  
  


* * *

  
Everything was suddenly moving far too quickly.

After so much time floating in the nothingness of the abyss, _reality_ was suddenly overwhelming. All his senses were on fire. His mind was clicking itself back into place as if it had been dislocated all these years and with the motion his memories sparked back into vision behind his eyelids, all his sense of self rushing in with the tide in one agonising jolt that left him reeling. But he didn’t have time to focus on any of that as the smell, the taste of the water filled him to the brim, the all-encompassing fear that he was _actually_ drowning ringing through his head to dampen the abrupt return to consciousness.

There was no laughter in his ear this time as he propelled himself with dwindling strength towards the light and the surface. His arms and legs were heavy and cumbersome, his coat dragging him down agonising inches with every upwards movement he made, tying him in knots and making his ascent more difficult than he needed it to be.

He was so weak, each second another precious atom of time that he could feel slipping away as black spots appeared around the light. The salt burned his eyes and his nose as he pushed up and up. He could feel the pressure of the water on his chest, a solid weight that his mind tried to reason with but couldn’t. He was so far down in the depths that he wasn’t sure how the light was actually reaching him, logic dictating that he was so deep below the waves that the pressure should have already crushed the life from him.

It was getting harder and harder not to breathe, his body reacting to the lack of air in his system. Pain thrummed through his chest, tight and hot, fluctuating with his pulse.

His heart beat grew steadily faster with the dismal realisation that he would never reach the surface in this state.

He wasn’t going to make it.

He could taste freedom, could see the lighthouse rippling above him as his arms refused to follow his instructions. It was like he was caught again at the bottom of the sea but he knew this time that it was his body giving out, a haze fizzling in his peripheral vision as the world closed in. He tried to will himself to continue, to drag himself up just that bit further but it was like swimming through tar, sapping his energy even as his mind remained clear.

It was freezing, the cold biting into him like it never had before. It was still deathly quiet but there was an ironically twisted humour to it all as he found himself succumbing to his fate.

He had finally been allowed to feel, to live again but only for a moment.

Allowed to feel but only pain, how was that fair?

His hand stretched out towards the light, cupping it one last time as his eyes drifted closed.

_I hope Stan will be OK…_

Before he could give up entirely, something grabbed the back of his collar.

Shock bubbled out of him, his mouth opening as he gasped and the water flooded in. A burst of energy filtered in with the adrenaline, fighting and pushing at whatever held him, clawing at the back of his neck until he froze. His hand found fingers, another human hand curling around his coat and pulling him towards the surface.

_But- How-_

Before he could fathom any of it, his head popped through the surface of the water and much needed air burned down his throat as painfully as the water had before it.

He coughed and heaved, manhandled until he was clinging on to the back of whoever was rescuing him for dear life. He was sure the person was talking to him but he couldn’t really focus, the sudden noise around him deafening him and the ice cold wind and rain peppering him in sharp hot pinpricks. He buried his head into the crook of the person’s neck, wracked with violent shakes as he continued to heave up the water that had entered his system.

He didn’t have much time to think as the waves continued to assault them, washing over them in unpredictable hits that left him spluttering more and whimpering as his would be rescuer dipped below the waves himself and seemed to slow with each hit.

But they finally made it to something solid, Ford’s eyes glazing slightly and his thoughts too lethargic to really grasp the situation as he kept a tight hold until he was prompted to do otherwise.

He let himself be shoved and pulled upwards, not really able to help much other than grip tightly once he was out of the waves entirely and let himself be propelled over the side of, what he now realised was, a boat.

He hit the deck with a dull thud, pain rippling through his side as he laid there but he couldn’t bring himself to mind as the threat of a watery grave finally left his system. He continued to cough weakly, breathing in deep heaving gasps as his fingers trailed fascinatingly over the wooden texture under him, the solid flooring beneath him a welcome respite after 30 years of drifting and floating with nothing concrete to cling onto.

_I’m alive. I’m alive, I’m alive,_ **I’m alive** _-_

There was a groan as the other man pulled himself up and fell beside him for a few panting moments. He gave what he hoped was a small sympathetic sound but considering the way the man shot up again, he couldn’t be sure the noise had had the desired effect.

“Ford? Ford, are you OK?”

_Stan?_

Large warm arms encased him, tugging him upwards, even more grounding that the boat. A soft but slightly damp fabric was wrapped around him, surrounding him in warmth and safety in a stark contrast to the cocoon that had been his prison below. He hummed tiredly, gratefully as fleece tickled his nose but the utter relief and warmth seemed to radiate more from the body that was holding him almost painfully tight, anchoring him to consciousness and giving him the strength he needed to keep himself awake.

“I’ve got you. I’ve finally got you, I can’t believe it-”

He could feel his brother trembling, found himself tugged impossibly closer and gave an appreciative choked off noise as he found he could bury himself into his brother’s chest, arms winding round him albeit weakly in response. He took in a deep breath and smelt something other than salt and brine, felt and heard Stan’s steady heartbeat and used it to try and centre his own.

Heard the soft whispers of encouragement meant only for him and the mumbled prayers to whatever deity had let him find him again.

Ford couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment, even as his mind still struggled to catch up entirely with it all. The world still seemed to be spinning just that bit too fast, as if hours were mere seconds, as if everything that had just transpired could have happened in the blink of an eye.

_Stan? Is it really you?_

The boat bobbed in the waters, his stomach lurching with the sensation. It derailed his thoughts and reminded him of what else there was waiting for them below the surface. He struggled in Stan’s grasp, his feet sliding and unable to find purchase at the angle he was being held at, though he wasn’t even sure they’d be able to support him if he did manage. He tried to will himself upwards, pushed away from Stan but he was unable to push himself up more than a few inches in his weakened state. He tried to talk, tried to voice his concerns but it was still so hard to breathe, the air wheezing in and out of him as if he was inhaling through a straw lodged where his windpipe should be.

“Easy, easy, Sixer. Just keep breathing for me, that’s- that’s it. In and out, along with me, OK?”

“S-Stan.” Ford managed to splutter out, his eyes closing as he listed forward in Stan’s grasp, arms unable to hold his own weight for too long.

He felt waterlogged, inside and out, the entirety of his body sluggish as his voice slurred out of him.

“Shh, it’s OK. I’ve got you- I can’t believe it but I’ve got you.”

There was something warm splashing on to his cheek in rivulets that his brain tried to fathom sluggishly. He debated on the rain growing warmer but the theory quickly vanished when he realised Stan was shielding him from the brunt of it. Instead of focusing on it though, he shook his head, still pawing at Stan, trying to gain his attention.

“Stan, p-please… listen…”

“OK, sorry, I am- I’m listening. What is it? What do you need me to do?”

“We need- need to go. It’s coming, Stan, whatever took me… it’s down-” Another coughing fit seized him, his entire body spasming as Stan clutched him tight and tried to ground him against the sudden hacking tremors.

He gave a sigh of relief as Stan gently put him down once he could breathe easier, before springing to action.

Ford’s eyes drifted shut as he finally found his strength wane entirely.  
  


* * *

  
Stan couldn’t believe it.

He’d done it, he’d actually gone and done it.

There was his brother, tired and strained but _alive_ , lying next to him on the deck as he got his breath back.

He wanted to laugh, wanted to cry and scream and yell to the heavens.

But all he could manage was a small wobbly hiss of a breath.

_He’s back. I got him back, I can’t believe it- He’s back, he’s breathing, he’s here, he’s-_

It only took a small sound of discomfort for Stan to snap back into reality, for him to find that this suddenly wasn’t enough and it was all becoming dreamlike again. He bundled his brother up into his arms, took comfort in the fact that he was there, solid and real in his arms, cold as ice and shivering maybe, but nowhere near deaths door like he could have been if Stan had been just a second longer-

Stan shook violently at the thought, the mere notion that his actions could have been just that little bit too late making anything that remained of the walls around his heart turn to dust and scatter into the storm.

He found himself muttering a mantra, soothing words for every small pained noise his brother made, for every shuddering breath he managed to take and though each one made his heart twist in sympathy they also gave him an odd feeling of relief.

Every sound was another reminder that he was real.

Broken choked off thanks fell from his lips in amongst the reassurances. Words meant for whoever might be watching over them, because it couldn’t have just been him that had led to this moment. He’d been trying for years to get his brother back, he couldn’t believe that it was all his doing now, and frankly he didn’t care.

Ford was there, wrapped tight in his arms and he could feel the weak hug he was getting in return and _nothing else mattered_.

_He’s here, he’s finally here. None of it was a waste. It was real, all of it was real._

Ford started to struggle against him, pulling out of the hug and Stan’s heart panged in his chest.

He wasn’t ready to return to reality yet. He knew he had to, but he wasn’t ready.

The bubble around them was starting to pop, the sounds of the waves roaring back into his ears past his brother’s wheezing breaths, the feel of the wind now more incessant when all he wanted to do was focus on Ford’s thready heartbeat against him.

His arms tightened for a second before yielding, unable to let the temptation get the better of him when he knew deep down they weren’t out of danger yet. He found more soft words slipping out of him as his brother fought his own body’s need for rest, unable to stay quiet and let him go through it all alone.

His heart ached, cracking as Ford slumped back against him, too weak to do more. He could feel tracks burning down his face, his arms curling instinctively, protectively around his brother as all the emotion he held in him- _had_ held him for so long seemed to pour out of him in waves.

He didn’t know whether he was crying because Ford was back or because he hated to see him so unlike himself.

Either way he knew he had to stop.

“Stan, p-please… listen…”

Stan nodded, rubbing at his eyes as Ford gave his all. He could feel the resolve, the desperate plea behind the tiredness and he knew, as much as he wanted to tell Ford to conserve his strength, that whatever he had to say was important.

“OK, sorry, I am- I’m listening. What is it? What do you need me to do?”

The next words made him jump into action, the heady mix of emotions snapping behind logic.

“We need- need to go. It’s coming, Stan, whatever took me… it’s down-”

An ice cold shiver ran down his spine, the creature from his nightmares rearing its ugly head to the forefront of his mind.

_Don’t think. Do._

Of course they needed to go, they were in the middle of a storm, stuck far out to sea.

Stan felt his body tighten mechanically around Ford as another tremor shuddered through him, hand rubbing his back to get whatever water still remained up before he finally got to work. He felt his brother grow limp, ran a hand through his wet hair one more time before he focused on his new objective.

His feet slid from under him as he tried to traverse the deck, the wood slippery and uncooperative beneath him. He landed with a heavy thud, the wind knocked out of him as he cursed and scrabbled back upright with difficulty, his body aching with the bruises he knew would be forming once they got back home.

He gave a groan, shaking his head. Something felt off, like a word on the tip of his tongue, like an incessant pull to his consciousness even as he struggled to the helm to guide them back to shore.

_“Keeper…”_

Despite where he had been heading, his feet instead pulled him to the side of the boat with little difficulty. The light from above them waxed and waned as if warning him but he couldn’t seem to resist the sway, tired from the exertion that he had put his body through. Ford’s words rang in his head, a trickling inkling of what awaited him that he needed to know, needed to see for himself.

He’d spent so long knowing these things existed but pretending that they didn’t that he’d almost fooled himself.

Was it really real? The thing that had haunted him for years? Had trapped his brother and used his voice to get to him, to fuel his nightmares further?

His mind vaguely drifted, the tug of the wind towards the side of the ship so achingly familiar, like a little light guiding him up the steps of the lighthouse that very first night, a long long time ago…

Another wracking cough echoed out from behind him, somehow making it past the fog that had descended upon him, and through the storm that now burst back to the forefront of his senses.

He blinked, snapping out of it just as he found himself leaning dangerously far over the edge.

A large sickening yellow eye gazed back at him, amused and gleeful from the depths. Thick tendrils, the bulbous body that had shifted and contorted in his nightmares, were thrown for once into stark contrast in the gleaming light from above. His breath ghosted out of him in a torrent as he found himself unable to turn away from the horrific sight.

_“Have you finally come to join us, keeper? You won’t make it back.”_

_What on earth makes you think you can save him?  
You should just join us, rot in the sea where you belong._

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, jarring others out of his memories. The eye widened in surprise as he reared back away from the edge. It was the edges of a nightmare brought to fizzling life and he’d be _damned_ if he’d let reality end the same way those nights did.

His gaze hardened, his thoughts once again his own as he pushed the influence that was trying to gain control out of his skull.

He recognised it, felt what were his own thoughts and what weren’t and buried the intrusive thoughts that needed to be buried from sight.

The boat shuddered under him, the tempest above them far more of a priority than the thing below the waves.

He could do this! He just needed to focus.

The winds died down slightly as he thought this, as if Mother Nature was questioning the reckless old man that had stumbled into her midst and was staring her in the face with little more care than if she was a schoolyard bully he was determined to take down.

He was stuck between two creatures in his head, one rising up to greet them whilst the other continued its pummelling assault. Both bearing down on his little vulnerable boat and its two very breakable occupants and all Stan could feel was the roar of fire in his veins as he launched across the ship. Any fear was clamped down on and twisted into a rage filled determination that nothing- _nothing_ would take his brother from him again.

_No, not this time! I just got him back- I won’t let you!_

The light that had guided him vanished into nothingness, a sudden unyielding darkness consuming him as he clattered to the floor, his jaw hitting the deck and making him see stars. He ignored the pain and the blindness however, moving steadily forward on his hands and knees to stop his wayward feet from abandoned him again.

His fingers hit the wheel just in time to stop his head colliding, his hand gripping a rung as he used it to pull himself upwards and gave himself just a moment to find his feet.

His breathing was heavy and loud in the darkness, nothing penetrating the gloom as he waited. It was like the world had vanished. The tempest had gone, the swirling winds had become empty. The silence was deafening, his hair standing on end at the all-encompassing sensations, tingling with anticipation and cold as the rain ceased to exist.

“S-Stan…”

Stan gave a whistling breath as a warbling rasp echoed through it all, grounding him.

Ford was still awake, that was good. Tired and weak maybe, but still coherent enough that Stan hoped he could still provide him some reassurance.

Because it really sounded like he needed it.

“I’m here, Sixer, you keep listening to me, OK? We’re going to get home, don’t you worry.”

But he knew for all his words, this was the calm before the chaos, knew the creature was still slowly making its way up towards them and soon it would wrap around them, crush the life from his boat and drop them into its gaping maw below the surface.

_So close, I was so close, I just need to see- just need a way home._

The light didn’t answer him.

An echoing roar came out of the darkness, tearing through it like it was cloth and tattering him to shreds as he clung to the wheel like a lifeline.

He shook under the brunt of it, shoulders hunched around his ears as agony engulfed him, ice and fire burned through his eardrums and directly into his skull to rattle there even when the roar dissipated.

And then the heavens opened.

The rain fell like a wave, crashing against him and battering onto his already worn down body. He heard a whimper somehow through the tempest, ears somehow straining and able to catch his brother where he lay. He blinked in the gloom, seeing absolutely nothing but somehow also knowing for a fact that his brother was directly ahead of him, barely holding on to the mast of the ship in an attempt to stay on board.

Every fibre of his being was so focused on his brother being OK that even the storm was less pressing than his brother in the darkness.

“Sixer, you just hold on! Keep your head down and hold on, because there’s people back home that you’ve got to meet and I’m gonna make sure that happens.”

Stan glanced around him, eyes narrowed as he tried to adjust. The ship juddered below him, making him lose his grip on the wheel and it spun out of control, the entire boat listing to the side before he could remedy the movement. If he had been disorientated before, he was more so now, the only thing he was sure of was the sky above him and the depths below.

He had no idea which way was home.

“No. No, no, no, not now. Shi- come on, come on, I just need some light. Just another beacon, just for a second to guide me home-”

“Stan! Stop!”

The shout came out, plaintive and cracking, and derailed his mantra before he could really let the words form. “Sixer? Sixer, are you OK?”

The croak that came was more of a whisper, somehow whistling on the winds to him. “Stan, we can’t- the light. It _needs_ the light, that’s what it _wants_ you to do.”

Stan let out a bite of a laugh, no mirth behind it but a solid thick denial of their predicament bubbling up protectively against the fear that threatened to engulf Ford’s tone. “I thought I told you to just hold on, Sixer. There’s nothing out here, you-” Stan hissed as the boat spun again, locking his arms around the wheel in an attempt to stop it, his teeth gritting painfully tight. “You’re not thinking straight after your dip. It’s just a storm, nothing weird about that other than us being out here.”

“Stan- you know… that’s not true.”

“Maybe.” Stan growled, yanking the wheel back where he thought it had been before. “But just because I know it’s there doesn’t mean I have to acknowledge it!” He yelled, loud and clear through the wind and rain as he glared upwards. “It is _just_ a storm. And it will continue to _just_ be a storm until we get to shore, you hear me? Nothing is going to stop us.”

Stan let out a deep breath, eyes drifting back to head height to glimpse for any sign of the shore to guide them back, mouth a tight lipped line. “Now then, _if_ you’re done doubting me, I’m going to make sure we get there.” His next words came out in a grumble meant for himself more than anything else. “And I still think just a little bit of light would be helpful right now, creature be damned.”

Silence met him for a second, and for just a moment blinding panic shot through his veins, making his heart stutter in his chest.

“Ford?”

“There’s a light… You asked for light and I saw it.”

Stan blinked, his brother’s voice filled with a strange mix of hope and trepidation, bewilderment and disbelief. It left him reeling, lost and confused. There was too much going on, too many conflicting points of interest and the sensory deprivation was starting to tire him, chip away at his resolve as the hopelessness of the situation started to slip into his skull no matter how hard he tried to push it away. “What? What are you talking about? It’s pitch black-”

“There are lights, lots of them! Can’t you see them?”

Stan narrowed his eyes, squinting painfully through the rain that was still thundering down on him as worry slipped cold and slimy into his chest. “Hey, Sixer, did you hit your head? I need to know now cause I don’t see any damn light-”

His words caught in his throat as a pinprick fluttered in the distance. He held his breath, watching it dart this way and that as more and more little lights joined it. Small insignificant dots that spanned the horizon and flickered across his vision.

Insignificant but so very, _very_ important that it took his breath away, the fear and trepidation melting to pure warm hope and recognition.

“Oh.”

“Stan, do you see them? What are they-?”

Ford’s words cut off, still doubtful and confused, as if the ordeal was leaving its mark on him and made him suspicious of everything around them. Not that Stan could blame him, with everything he must have gone through, when the light that had guided him this far was also what the creature below needed. But Stan also knew that this was different.

Knew that this light was their ticket to freedom, and theirs alone.

A flame burning in the darkness just to light their way.

He found his eyes catching on two of the lights, close together and moving faster than any of the others. Found the multitude of soft bright colours that gleamed against the artificial white of the rest of the flickering orbs, found the bright beam of the other, the strongest light of them all.

And he knew.

He knew exactly what they were.

He turned the boat towards them, focusing on those two little lights above everything else, above the other dancing lights.

“That’s home, Sixer. That’s what that is. And _that’s_ where we’re headed.”

“Now hold on tight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: 8D THIS WAS SO FUN EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SLEEP NOW.


	9. A Ghost of a Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Lovely art by Ran! Please go give them all the love, they deserve all the love and affection ^^ ♥

The moon came back out as they neared the shoreline, the storm finally abating as they traversed into shallower waters.

Stan couldn’t help but let out a steady relieved stream of breath as he wondered if the creature that had caused all this trouble was stuck behind them in the foaming waves, its agonising roar still reverberating around his head. He vehemently hoped they had left it far behind along with the billowing storm clouds that had hindered their progress every chance that they could.

But even so he refused to look behind him and check, refused to give it or Mother Nature the satisfaction as he kept his eyes locked on the small twinkling lights that guided him. Didn’t even care that the shoreline was now visible, the silvery sheen of the moon lighting up the people dotted across the beaches in a wide arc to guide them home.

No, he just stared at the most important lights, the two small figures stood hand in hand, trying his hardest to steer towards them, to steer to home.

And at the same time he continued to chatter to his brother, kept him talking to him, no matter how tired he sounded. He knew that Ford needed to rest but he couldn’t yet, not until they were safe and sound at home where Stan could keep an eye on him and check him over, then he could sleep all he wanted. But right at this moment Stan needed to know he was still with him.

_Come on, Sixer! We’re so close! You’re doing great, just stay with me a bit longer._

In the end, Stan wasn’t as good at navigating as he’d hoped to be, his arms growing lethargic and shaky as the adrenaline and resolve that had spurred him on throughout the entire ordeal slowly started to dwindle.

Though the storm had mostly fizzled out, the wind and sea were still strong enough to drive him off course, his arms unable to pull back like they had before to guide them true to the lights.

The boat juddered to a halt as it beached, the sound of it crunching through the pebbles and sand making Stan wince and sluggishly mutter an apology to the old boat even as he flopped forward onto the wheel. He stared at nothing for a second, blinking numbly in a moment of quiet contemplation as everything came into stark overwhelming contrast.

_I did it._

“Stan?”

He started at the hushed voice, groaning as he stood back up and wobbled his way to where Ford still sat, hands locked around the mast, his legs spread-eagle from the turbulent journey. His expression were dazed, tired but achingly hopeful as Stan crouched down next to him. “Hey buddy, we did it. We’re home.”

Ford gave as bright a smile as he could manage, arms slackening around the mast as his body relaxed. Stan beamed in return, shuffling around to lay down beside him, staring up at the stars in a moment of absolute peace.

_I actually did it._

“Told you I could do it.”

“Never… never doubted you for a second.”

Stan snorted, shaking his head as laughter tried to rumble through him tiredly. A hand snaked out to grip at his shoulder, weak and trembling but solid and warm, as if Ford was trying to convince himself this was actually happening as much as Stan was.

Or that’s what Stan hoped the gesture was conveying.

He gulped, the tranquil moment passing, thoughts going towards other things as he sat back up. The last time he and Ford had spoken had been almost forty years ago, a conversation which had _not_ been pretty, and suddenly doubt was creeping up on him, seeping through him like the damp of his clothes. A small inkling that Ford would push him away once he realised, once he remembered.

“Hey, Ford? About the-”

“Mr Pines!”

Stan jumped, heart thudding against his ribs until he saw the figure running towards them. He gave a sigh of relief, looking down at Ford with a twitch of a smile. “Heh, it’s fine, it’s just Soos.”

“Stan, what were you-”

Stan shook his head quickly, cutting off the moment. “Nothing, doesn’t matter.”

It really wasn’t the time for that, what was he thinking bringing that up now?

He laughed again softly, standing up with a grunt.

He wasn’t thinking, that was the point. Everything was so up in the air, so charged, his emotions were making him blurt out things he really didn’t want to get into.

Besides, his main priority was to get Ford somewhere warm and dry, everything else could wait.

He dusted himself off, stood as straight as his back would allow and strolled to the side of the boat to find the worried face of his apprentice lighthouse keeper. “Soos? What’s all the yelling about?”

“What’s all-? Mr Pines, don’t joke like that! You went out on your own in a _storm_ , the entire town came out to look for you once we heard.” Soos looked at him aghast, his voice peppered with hurt at his dismissal of the situation. Stan couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that went through him even as he tried to slip the conman’s smile on to his face with minimal success.

“Eh, it’s nothing, kid. Thanks for the concern though. Now, how’s about you go tell everyone I’m fine?”

“But-”

“ _Soos_.” Stan sighed, rubbing at his temples in a fit of exhaustion that had the young man squawking in concern. He tried to brush it off with a quick wave of his hand, shortly followed by another groan as Soos continued to stare at him, eyebrows furrowing fretfully. All he wanted to do was get home, get Ford bundled up and then get to sleep himself. “Sorry, sorry- look this is really hard to explain. But, I- I’ve got someone on board that’s just taken a rather long dip in the briny and I really need to get him looked over. You think you can help out with that and get me some space to get him home?”

Soos gasped, eyes lighting up gleefully that threw Stan for a loop in his fatigued state. “You mean the twins were right? They thought they saw you rescuing someone! Dude, I can’t wait to tell everyone it was true!”

“…Right, whatever. Anyway-”

“Wait, Mr Pines, you’re soaked! Did you jump in to rescue him?”

“Huh? Of course I did. Soos, will you be quiet for a second?” Stan snapped slightly, eyes darting to Ford who hadn’t moved from where he’d left him. “Look, it was an ordeal, it was overwhelming to say the least-” He glanced up at the lights slowly coming towards them, face contorting with worry. “And I think a whole crowd of people around him will make that ten times worse. I want to get him inside and looked after, so you think you can help an old man out and keep our well-wishers at bay?”

Soos saluted him, eyes full of purpose as he leapt away from the boat. “On it, Mr Pines! I won’t leave out any of the details either, everyone’s going to be so impressed.”

“Just make sure no one comes over here!” Stan growled after him, coughing a moment later with a disgusted grimace. He hadn’t noticed just how cold it was out here, or how much water he’d ingested when trying to drag his brother out of the water. He shook his head, trying to stop the shivers running down his spine as he coughed up what he could. He went back to Ford’s side after, prodding him gently. “Hey, Sixer? You still with me?”

Ford mumbled something incoherent back, his eyebrows furrowing sadly.

“I know, I know, but I need you to stay awake a little bit longer, OK? I’m not sure I can carry you back home completely, I’m gonna need your help.”

Ford peeked a doleful eye open, tiredness lacing through the action entirely but he nodded all the same, arms reaching up to try and help Stan get him standing.

“That’s it, just one foot in front of the other.” Stan muttered encouragingly as he pulled him upright, his brother resting heavily on his side and making it difficult to get him off the boat.

Stan huffed ironically to himself as they finally managed it.

After all, it was still easier than getting him _onto_ the boat in the first place, right at the heart of the storm.

“Grunkle Stan!”

Stan flinched, heart breaking at the sound of his distraught Mabel. He screwed his eyes shut for a second, hearing Dipper’s echoing sentiment of distress before he gave in and opened them, watching the two flickering lights bypass Soos’s outstretched arms and run towards him, obviously ignoring whatever he was shouting after them.

He chuckled, shaking his head. Of course Soos wouldn’t be able to stop them of all people.

His heart started to beat rapidly in his chest as Ford made a questioning sound. The dismay in their voices was soon outweighed by relief as they saw him standing and he couldn’t help but echo the notion.

_This is it! I can’t believe it’s actually happening. I’ve been dreaming of this, of introducing you to them and now- now I finally get to do it._

“Stan, why aren’t we moving?”

Stan had to lean in close to hear the muffled slurred words. His brother’s eyes were heavy lidded and not really cooperating as he started to drag him forward, the crunch of pebbles a welcome respite against the rocky waves.

“No reason, was just thinking, that’s all. And hey! You gotta stay awake, you hear me?”

Ford whined, head lolling against Stan’s shoulder.

“Oi, no arguments. Come on! There are two kids running towards us who you are going to love. You have to stay awake if you want to make a good impression, you hear me?”

“Oh? I finally get to meet them, do I…?”

“Huh?” Stan frowned, staring down at his brother as he gave a soft sleepy grin in response, as if he had a secret that Stan didn’t know. “What was that?”

“Nothing…”

“Right.” Stan gulped, eyeing him worriedly as he continued to drag him forward. The kids were fast approaching now. He could see the tears in Mabel’s eyes, her arms outstretched as she ran. He couldn’t see Dipper’s face, running full pelt towards them, head down far enough that his hat was obscuring most of his face other than a thin lipped frown.

Ford slumped against him further, and with the movement, the sudden comprehension of what was about to happen made itself clear. Before he could say a word though, both twins were on them, latching on to his legs and making him wobble dangerously.

He couldn’t get a word in edgeways even then, the twins warbling out a panicked string of garbles that he found hard to follow, especially when Ford chuckled against his neck.

“Grunkle Stan! Why didn’t you tell anyone what you were doing? Someone could have helped! We’ve been through this before-”

“Grunkle Stan, I am so _so_ sorry- I never got to say it and I thought for a minute that I’d never get to-”

“Whoa, whoa there. Slow down, you two.” Stan tilted down towards them as much as he could without dislodging Ford. “Kids, I get it, and I will sit down and let you two shout at me all you want later. But right now, I really need to get Ford home. We can talk through everything there, OK?” He gave them a grin as they looked up at him, both completely refusing to let go of him now they had him. “Kids, you’re gonna make me fall over and I’m not quite sure Sixer here would be of any use in getting back up again.”

“But-”

“Hey, why don’t I introduce you?” Stan’s grin grew wider, trying to distract the pair as their eyes finally flickered to Ford instead of worriedly appraising him. He nudged his shoulder upwards, trying to give Ford a cue as he started, his heart beating a mile a minute as he realised yet again that this was it- this was the moment that the twins met their other Grunkle. “Ford, this is Mabel and Dipper. Kids, this is your-”

“Grunkle Stan, I think he’s asleep.”

Stan blinked, head turning to his brother whose head had thudded against his shoulder, his face blissfully blank and eyes closed as his breathing evened out.

“Hmm… perhaps introductions will have to wait.”

* * *

The walk back to the Shack proved to be quite an arduous feat with a sleep heavy Ford leaning against him and two small children weaving in and out of his legs like cats. It didn’t help that the aches and pains of the trip were slowly making themselves known as the adrenaline left his system and the world became altogether less hectic one step at a time.

He had Ford back, cold and wet but real, clutched tight against his side. He could feel him breathing against his neck shallowly, and although he knew they weren’t out of the waters yet, it still felt a damn sight better than what it had been even an hour or so before.

Still a lot better than it had been in the entirety of the last 30 years.

Luckily for Stan, before they could get too far, Soos managed to untangle himself from the search party while it dispersed, to give them a lift the short trip to the shack before they made much headway. Not that Stan was entirely sure he would have made the trip anyway, regardless of his complaining as Soos pulled Ford away from him to get him into the car.

He thanked Soos once they’d gotten Ford inside onto the sofa, a stopping point for the moment when Soos noticed Stan cursing quietly under the strain. Stan couldn’t help but feel the need to when all was said and done, albeit only when the kids were preoccupied, chattering about how to help the unconscious man that looked so much like their Grunkle. A gruff pat to the back and a heartfelt thanks tumbled past his lips and left the boy blinked at him, mouth slack jawed in shock.

“Grunkle Stan! I think he’s waking up!”

Stan flinched at the loud noise, spinning around with an endearing yet exasperated smile, equal parts relieved that Ford was awake and worried that the kids might overwhelm him.

“Alright, alright, sweetie. How about we keep it quiet for him? He’s had quite the rough- well, let’s just say quite a rough evening for now.”

He gave an awkward cough after, not quite sure where to go from there. He gave another tap to Soos’s back before telling him to go home and get some rest, making it clear that he might need him to run some errands in the morning depending on Ford’s condition.

With that all sorted, Soos giving an understanding nod and vanishing without much else, Stan walked behind the two kids, eyebrow raised as he watched them whisper between themselves. Both sat hushed and waiting as the old man’s eyelids fluttered, his mouth falling into a soft frown as he shifted awake.

Stan tried not to let nerves or worry filter into his voice. “Hey there, Sixer, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Ford gave a huff of amusement, the frown lines melting away as he finally managed to open bleary eyes. He tried to sit up but jerked back as something was thrown at him, disappearing under a mound of fabric.

“Grunkle Stan!”

“What? Sixer’s soaked through, least I can do in bundle him up- Actually, might be a good idea to get out of those wet clothes. I’ll go grab some things, see if they still fit you.”

“ _Still_ fit him?”

Stan winced as a small inquisitive voice carried after him. He turned back guiltily, hand scratching the back of his head. “Kid, there’s gonna be a lot of questions, I know there are, but will you let me try and explain it all in one go, first?”

Dipper was silent for a few moments, face warring in a way that Stan hadn’t anticipated. He’d expected anger and betrayal, maybe a hint of doubt- but he definitely hadn’t been expecting the bright lick of guilt that swam there behind it all. Dipper turned back to Ford, tugging one of the blankets that Stan had thrown at him down over his legs. “You should get out of all that wet stuff too, Grunkle Stan, before you come back down.”

“Yeah! We don’t want you getting sick cause you’re too busy looking after everyone else!” Mabel pointed a finger at him, other hand at her hip before her eyes lit up. “Oh! I’ll go grab some blankets from our room and make a nest down here.”

“Heh, thanks for this, kids. I promise I’ll explain everything when-” Stan’s gaze shifted to Ford whose eyes had drifted shut again. “When I’m happier that Ford’s going to be OK.” He turned back to Mabel with a soft smile. “Now then, I’m actually thinking we should get him up to bed before the end of the night. So how about I leave you in charge of decorating the guest room? The one next to mine?”

“The one me and Dipper fought over for a bit?”

“That’s the one, how about you go make _that_ room a cosy den for me?” Stan grinned as the girl squealed and darted past him, excitement at it all outweighing the negative emotions that had gathered earlier. Or so Stan thought, until there was a sudden pair of arms around his legs again.

“I’m glad you’re OK, Grunkle Stan.”

Stan sighed, patting her head. “Sorry for worrying you.” She shook her head against him before rushing towards the stairs again.

“You owe me all the hugs, that’s all!”

“Sure thing, sweetie!” Stan called after her with a laugh before turning back to the still silent boy, shame bubbling up as he watched him continue to puzzle over everything without any answers to help him. “Hey Dipper, can I leave you in charge down here while I go get changed and grab some clothes for him?”

Dipper didn’t turn to him but his back straightened which Stan took as a good sign. “Of course.”

“Atta boy, I knew I could count on you. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“And Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“…You owe me the first hug… But don’t tell Mabel I said that.”

“Tell her you said what?” Stan gave him a cheeky wink, ruffling his hair. “First hug is yours because I’ve decided that then.” He felt the boy relax against him before he scowled and pushed him away.

“You’re soaked! Go get changed already!”

“I thought you wanted a hug?” Stan gave a bark of laughter as small hands pushed him away again, Dipper’s voice cracking in irritation at his attempts at a very wet hug. He waved to his brother, whose eyes had again opened at the sound, albeit weakly. His head stuck out of the lighthouse keeper jacket that Stan had draped around him as soon as they’d come in the door. His hands tugged it tighter still around him and fidgeted with the buttons as if the texture was grounding him.

Stan gave one last sigh of relief at the image, glad that for the moment Ford was still awake and let himself quickly follow Mabel, knowing that Dipper would call for him if anything untoward happened.

* * *

One quick change, and a much slower helping his brother do the same later, the pair were both warm, dry and decked out in matching fluffy blankets, courtesy of Mabel who refused to let Stan get away with not being bundled up as well. He was sure Dipper’s glare alone could have heated him up, especially when he tried to convince the girl that he didn’t need the blanket, but he thought it best to concede defeat against the pair.

Plus Ford was looking at him worriedly even in his bemused and tired state and that _really_ wasn’t allowed. Their concern might have had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t quite stop the shaking once he realised just how cold he’d gotten when dry clothes suddenly felt so warm against his skin.

The twins curled up beside them on the sofa, added warmth that Stan couldn’t say he regretted as he slung an arm around Dipper. He watched Mabel shuffle into the space between her brother and Ford with a faraway smile at her antics as she tried to introduce herself to him. A bubble of giddy laughter escaped him as Ford tried to struggle out of the copious amounts of blankets to shake the proffered hand and failed completely at untangling himself.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have swaddled him quite so tightly if you wanted introductions, sweetie.”

“But- we can’t not be introduced. He’s family, right?” Mabel looked vaguely distraught in that moment and Stan couldn’t help but laugh again as Ford’s eyes went wide with panic and he tried desperately to free himself even as weak as he was in that moment.

“Sure he is, that’s why you don’t need to shake hands.” Stan nudged Dipper up a bit so that he was turned towards Ford. “So Ford, now that you’re awake this time. This is-”

“Mabel and Dipper.” Ford managed to get out with a smile, the room turning silent as the kids stared at him. “Stan told me about you before.”

“I did? Huh, I don’t remember but then I said a lot of things to keep you awake out there.” Stan sniffed, scratching at his cheek as the twins looked up at him in annoyance. “Sorry! I forgot. Right, Mabel, Dipper, this is my brother, your Great Uncle Ford.”

“We have another Grunkle?!” Mabel’s voice hit a new decibel that had Ford wincing. His eyes widened and a huff of surprise left him as she launched forward, arms as tight around him as they could go when he was bulked out by padding.

“Easy, Mabel, easy. He’s just had a dip in the sea, I’d say he’s a bit worse for wear.”

“Oops…”

Ford shook his head vehemently at her when she pulled away, eyes soft. “No, no. Hugs are good. Very good in fact. Just-” He glanced down at himself before back at her with an apologetic smile. “I can’t hug back.”

“Hmm, fair. Hugs when you’re warmer?”

“Definitely.” Ford smiled at her before leaning back into the sofa.

Stan watched on with an anxious gaze. Just that small interaction seemed to have worn him out. He’d grown paler again, eyes taking on that weary glaze that heralded him promptly falling back to sleep if Stan wasn’t careful. “I think it’s time we helped get Ford up to bed.”

“But-”

Stan put up a hand to stop the disappointed voices, going as far as ignoring the small dejected gaze he got from his brother who seemed to be enjoying the company even if it was draining him. “Nope, no buts. Ford needs rest otherwise it’s going to take even longer to get him back on his feet.”

“I’m fine, Stan. I just need a moment-”

“Uhm… as much as I’d like to get to know you Great Uncle Ford-” Dipper kept his gaze low, not quite sure of what to make of anything quite yet. “Grunkle Stan’s right. You really should rest.”

Mabel gave a long suffering sigh before standing up off the sofa to let Stan get to Ford. “True, and the sooner you go to sleep, the more time we’ll have tomorrow!”

“But I don’t _want_ to sleep.” Ford huffed, glaring petulantly at Stan who rolled his eyes back at him.

“Yeah, yeah, says the man who’s dead on his feet and will probably pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow.” Stan grinned, tugging away the blanket layers so that he could get an arm around his shoulder again. “Besides-” He whispered in his ear. “Just like Mabel said, we’ve got all the time in the world now. You’re safe, Sixer, I promise. We’ll all still be here when you wake up.”

Ford hummed and relaxed against him, allowing the small worries and doubts that had crept in to dissipate at Stan’s words. “I’ll-” A yawn interrupted him. “I’ll hold you to that, Knucklehead.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Poindexter.”

Stan bit his lip a few moments later to stifle his chuckles when he was proved right and Ford fell asleep almost before Stan had managed to get him in a halfway comfortable looking position in bed. Mabel quietly snuck up beside him, throwing layer upon layer over the top.

Stan raised an eyebrow as Dipper came in last, throwing the keeper’s jacket on top of the pile with a small hint of trepidation, especially when he noticed his Grunkle’s curious expression.

“He was holding on to it quite tightly when you were upstairs, I thought it might be a comfort if he woke up in the middle of the night.” Dipper whispered, head low as he shuffled out of the door, slightly embarrassed.

Stan took one more look at his brother with a soft smile, tugging the jacket up closer to him just in case before following suit.

“You’re an observant kid.” He ruffled Dipper’s hair again, tapping his shoulder so he looked up and then grabbing Mabel’s attention.

“Well, I did promise. Come on you two, let’s go back downstairs and I’ll answer what questions I can. We can have some hot chocolate to warm you two up too- don’t even think about pretending, I know that you two were out in that storm too and I don’t want any colds in this house, you hear?”

“And in the morning we can talk to Grunkle Ford?”

Stan felt his heart stutter at the term already being used, happiness blossoming that the pair _could_ call him that now. That after all this time Ford had finally met them and that this wasn’t the end, it would continue like it always should have. He tried to let this happiness fill him up, tried not to let his doubtful fears about the future consume him. The ones that had started to fester and fizzle now that Ford was asleep and away from him, the ones that questioned how long it would be until his brother remembered everything, remembered their arguments and what he had done and grew angry with him once more.

But whatever the outcome of that, he couldn’t deny the kids getting to know him, no matter how hard it might be.

“Yeah, if he’s up for you two whirlwinds in the morning, I don’t see why not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story is not complete without a Pine family cuddle pile. Also 8D they’re home! ♥♥♥   
> I took a bit of a break with this one because it got huge - so the next one should be up before the end of the week to make up for that (and is… quite big again XD)


	10. We'll Weather Any Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and Ran got impatient cause we wanted to share- so here’s the other half to that last chapter. ♥

A large clatter of thunder tore through the air, lightning slipping through the jagged cracks left behind. Stan clutched at his ears against the roar, eyes screwed up tight as he tried not to slip against the wet wood of the deck. Rain poured down on him, his heart racing in panicked tandem with the utter onslaught of confusion that had befallen him.

He pushed against it, standing tall as his eyes scanned this way and that, seeing nothing in the murky waters, in the silver glow of the moon.

_Where is he? Where’s Ford? I was meant to be… he was meant to be here…_

A cackle sounded through the wind, the only response to his thoughts, biting into his ears and down his neck. He shuddered violently as the sound clawed ice cold nails down his spine, as any notion of determination and drive bled out of the gaping wounds it left behind.

His knees gave out in an instant, buckling under the weight of his world crumbling.

The foaming waters rose up to greet him.

He had been too late.

_“All your fault…”_

_Useless… good for nothing…_

Movement from above somehow caught his listless attention. His head moved sluggishly, not quite noticing how numb he had become to his surroundings, how the storm had transformed into background static, unrecognisable and filtered through his mind.

Instead he focused on the moon, now a vibrant glaring yellow, gleaming poisonously down at him as if an eye scrutinised him from the sky.

_“Have you finally come to join us, keeper?”_

The black slit that manifested in the moon seemed to grow wider and wider, encompassing him until he was falling into its depths, a sudden pulse of sheer panic bleeding through the apathy fogging his brain, as darkness engulfed him-

Stan jolted upwards, hands flailing around him as a suffocating presence filled his senses, tightening further with his movements. The echoing laughter still drifted through the darkness, his breathing hitching-

Until suddenly his hands caught on fabric and the gloom was wrenched away. Light poured through the crack, bright and warm and blinding, and he hissed, dropping what was in his hands to provide some cover from the assault even if it was well received.

He panted heavily, eyes skirting around once the light was comforting again. He gave a derisive snort at the curtain that he’d forgotten to pull completely, the sun’s rays flickering through the gap he’d left for it as if to punish him for his negligence the night before. He shook himself, closing his eyes and soaking up the light as he breathed in deeply.

“Just a nightmare…”

He muttered to himself on the exhale, a long weary sigh as he flopped back against his pillow. It wasn’t every day that the nightmares took so long to wake him up, normally if he wasn’t in the lighthouse for the night he would still be up before the first hints of dawn hit the horizon, let alone sleeping through until the sun was high in the sky, so he took that as a small victory. He grinned cheekily, hand outstretched upwards to let the light hit it and warm it thoroughly.

You had to take the small victories as they came.

He groaned softly, realising belatedly that he was late for work. If the sun was that high in the sky he’d already missed the morning busload of tourists that were ready to darken his doorstep and unload their cash into his waiting till. He pouted, still sleep dazed and faintly wishing to curl back up for a bit longer even if his mind laughed ironically at the thought of sleep after _that_ wake up call. The snide voice didn’t, however, dampen the fact that he was warm and dry and somehow more relaxed than he felt he had been in years even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

He winced as he went to sit up again, aches and pains suddenly making themselves known as he woke up more with each slowly turning thought process. “Ugh, I must have slept funny, my back is killing… me…”

Stan blinked as a blanket fell away from him. In fact more than one, a bright array of warm fabrics pooling in his lap as he sat himself up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. It took him a bemused minute of wondering how he hadn’t overheated in the night before a small voice full of authority echoed around his skull.

“Oh yeah, Mabel wouldn’t let me go to bed without wrapping up warm. Not after-”

Stan stood up in a flurry of movement, suddenly wide awake, excitement gleaming in his now wide eyes.

_Ford’s back. You did it. How did you forget?  
…I thought it was a dream._

He stood frozen for a few moments as it all hit him, as the magnitude of it all came crashing into him, warm and giddy and breath-taking. He stumbled to the window, almost tripping over the blankets that now littered the floor in his enthusiasm as he pulled open the curtains and grinned, squinting into the bright sunlight.

The sun beamed back to him, reflecting off the glass of the lighthouse in a parody of the night before, but no storm clouds marred the image this time, no angry terrible roar and cold deep waters, no dark heavy shadows trying to stifle the light. It filled him up, all the warmth that was already thrumming through him magnifying and buzzing until there was no room for anything else other than the cheering little voice in his head.

_Would you look at that? Not a cloud in sight._

A feverish chuckle left him as the insignificant and yet wholly important thought entered, his smile widening until it began to ache.

Not a cloud in the sky.

Ford was home.

He couldn’t think of a better day.

The chuckles turned to full blown laughter, a surplus of energy that had to leave him. His hands clenched, tightened around the curtain fabric to ground him, to stop them shaking as he continued to stare out to sea, eyes drawn to the little boat that was still beached just in sight of where he stood. The laughter became choked, small hiccups of pure overwhelming emotion welling up inside him until he couldn’t stop the stream of them slipping down his cheeks to mingle with the noise bubbling from his throat.

_He’s back. He’s really back._

“G-glad the kids can’t see me.” Stan sniffled, more laughter bursting out at the thought as he scrubbed at his eyes but more tears fell just as easily as the happiness pouring from his lips. “S-such a mess. What’d- _heh-_ what’d Ford think if he saw-” The words stuttered to a halt, the laughter slowing as the tears fell faster than he could stem them.

The fact that that question could be answered at all now, was an answer in itself.

With a violent tremor through his shoulders, his breath catching in his throat, the dam behind his eyes broke entirely, water cascading down his cheeks as reality clambered for his attention.

Ford could do anything he wanted now. He was _home_ , he was _there_ , no longer miles and miles away but just downstairs if only Stan could get his feet to move. Safe and sound and Stan never had to wonder what had happened to him, what was happening to him or why it had all happened. None of it mattered now, none of it mattered as long as Ford was back with them, no longer a wisp stuck on the wrong side of the light.

“Now you- you stop this.” Stan scolded himself, smiling all the while and trying his hardest to get his eyes to follow suit. The moment was passing now, all his energy flowing out of him in rivulets and leaving him spent but content, tired but not hollowed out by the outpouring as if it was always meant to happen. Thirty years of pain finally starting to stitch itself back together again. “You gotta pull yourself together before the kids wonder where you’ve gotten to-”

He stuttered to a halt, frowning and head tilting as he glanced up at the sky. He rubbed the tear streaks away with his palm, sniffing loudly as he contemplated the sun. It was far higher than it usually was, even on a day off he was up before the kids, regardless of what adventures or shenanigans they’d all been involved in the day before.

So… why hadn’t they been up to see where he was?

A chuckle not his own slipped through the silent room, familiar but distorted as if it was funnelling through a slight gap. It settled uneasily in the air as if it had waited for the opportune moment to whistle through to him, as if earlier he might not even have heard it over his own raucous noise. He locked around the room at the sound, ice cold and sharp as shattered glass it bit a line down his spine, trailing goose bumps in its wake. His eyes sought out the window clasp, fingers trailing along the edge as his mind tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for the sudden cold draft of noise that slithered around his shoulders.

There wasn’t a breeze in sight.

The sound changed, a whisper close to his ear, amused and smug, a disgusted pity thinly veiled in the grinning tone.

_“You didn’t really think you could save him, did you?”_

_Was it… just a dream…?_

Doubt coiled in his gut, his heart sinking as the insidious thoughts entered his head, a cacophony of ‘what ifs’ and disjointed images. The familiar voice was soon forgotten, his mind instead focusing on the pressing matter of getting his thoughts back in line and the tight band to stop constricting around his lungs.

_No, stop it- you know he’s just- he’s just downstairs. You did it. You_ **did** _. You must have-_

He turned sharply, the cold cloying matter around his shoulders evaporating abruptly as he stumbled again on the fabric that adorned the floor. He grabbed one frantically, the thought of Mabel a beacon in his mind as she scolded him to stay warm and he wrapped it around himself, dampening the cold harsh laughter that had been ringing through his ears until it too dissipated entirely. He took a steady breath, breathing in the fabric as the warmth came back, settling his turbulent thoughts.

Wind rattled the window in its frame, an angry commotion of wood and glass, and Stan gave out a shaky laugh, eyeing it up victoriously as his mind went to more realistic, more viable, logic notions than a whispering voice that was not his own.

“Just the wind, that’s all. God damn nightmare, unsettled me more than I thought it would. You’d think the old noggin would give me a break considering…”

He refused to think about what had tried to stop them out on the ocean, ignored Ford’s warning words whilst they battled the elements.

No, just a storm, just the wind. Just the last lingering aftereffects of a nightmare still close to the surface.

That’s all any of this was. There was nothing extraordinary about what was going on.

There were no monsters hiding under the bed.

He grinned, triumphant and sharp toothed as the wind died completely, a hissed grumble of dissent the last he heard as he determinedly refused to acknowledge what could be.

After all, he always had promised Ford he’d protect them from the monster under the bed.

Or any monster for that matter.

_But what if…_

The smile shifted slightly, eyes going back to the door as the cold suffocating atmosphere departed, burned away completely in the sun’s rays. Now the feeling was entirely too human, a small realistic worry that behind that door was everything he hoped it would be and everything he wished it wasn’t all at once.

He gripped the blanket tight around him, the memories of the night before coming thick and fast to the forefront. Hot chocolate and stories shared, warm conversation and painful confessions- warmer hugs and utter all-encompassing relief of a family reunited instead of broken further apart.

A night of monsters vanquished and successful rescue attempts despite the odds.

Everything was in his grasp. Just on the other side of that door that seemed an impossible distance away and so desperately close all at the same time.

If he wasn’t so frozen in his doubts he might have laughed again.

He’d battled a storm, risked hell and high water and now that it was all within his grasp he couldn’t get his feet to move.

_What if you’re wrong? What if something happened…?_

His feet moved without conscious effort then, all thoughts pushed aside as the blanket fell from him and he found himself running before he’d even made the conscious decision to, feet thudding heavily along the corridor before he could think up a reason to slow down.

After all, he knew that he had done it last night, he _knew that_.

…But a little bit of proof always did go a long way.

And really, all he wanted right now was to see, to make sure.

_Ford’s back. He’s got to be back._

He really had thought the nightmares would stop once he was.

* * *

If he wasn’t in so much of a hurry he might have been impressed with how quickly he navigated the cluttered staircase.  Strewn across each step was an assortment of papers and knitting equipment as if the twins had been too excited to stop, a small messy path leading exactly where he had assumed, and hoped, it would.

If he wasn’t so tied up in knots he might have found it funny, endearing even.

Or at least he might not have ignored the way his back twinged in protest to his quickening steps after his dip in the ocean the night before.

As it was the only thing that really stopped him in his tracks was the soft croak of a voice emanating from the open doorway that stood before him like a bright invitation.

“So you’ve been staying with Stan all summer? Does this happen often?”

It was filled with soft amusement, tired but intrigued in a way that was so utterly _Ford_ even after everything that Stan found himself suddenly having to support himself against the wall as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him.

“No, this is the first time and it’s been amazing!”

There was a soft huff of a laugh at his obviously excitable great niece, too much effort to really get the laugh that Stan had hoped to hear again, but something all the same, something that spoke volumes.

“Haha, I got that from the stories you’ve been telling me.”

“Yeah! It’s been… interesting, that’s for sure.”

Stan frowned at Dipper’s voice, worried by the odd low tone that seemed to enter it. He’d have to figure out what was happening there once he had a chance. The boy should be gleeful to have a mystery solved- especially when soon enough he’d have a nerdy Grunkle to share in all his weird research!

“But, no, this doesn’t happen often. This was the first time we got to stay for more than a short visit. Normally we’d just pop up for a few days. We never really got to explore before.”

“Oh, did he ever visit you?”

Stan winced, still leaning against the wall.

_I would have…_

“No… he’s never come to us.”

“Never?”

“Well, once! Mum said he came to see us at the hospital when we were born- said there’s a photo of him somewhere with the best smile you’ll ever see!”

“Yeah?”

The word sounded sad, almost disappointed and Stan pressed back into the wall as if it could swallow him up.

“But now we know why! He was busy here, couldn’t leave the lighthouse, now could he?”

“I-I see…”

Stan gulped before pushing away from the wall. He straightened out his clothes, ignoring the fact that he had fallen flat on his face last night into bed and slept in whatever warm dry things he had quickly gathered up. He straightened his back, leaning against the doorframe while none of them noticed, hoping to look like he’d been there for a while as he raised an eyebrow and gave a short cough.

It was time to stop this conversation, especially now he saw that concerned frown on Ford’s face that said he’d have wanted Stan to do differently.

He forced his face into a scowl, struggling not to laugh at the room. Within the space of a night it had become covered not only in brightly coloured blankets and cushions but also a multitude of wool as Mabel knitted away, tongue in cheek whilst they chatted. He even had to go so far as to bite his lip to stop a smile forming at the fact that the twins had taken it upon themselves to make Ford feel right at home, acting like he had always been there and using him and his bed as comfy seating.

“So… I thought I told you two that Ford needed to rest before you two bombarded him with questions?”

“You said we could talk to him in the morning.”

Stan rolled his eyes as Mabel waved a knitting needle in his direction, speaking in their defence. “I’m pretty sure I said you could if- and _only_ if, he felt up to it.”

“He was up for it, right Grunkle Ford?”

Stan huffed, pushing himself away from the door as Dipper turned to Ford for back up. “Kid, I’m hardly going to take his word for it when you’re giving him that pleading look.” He turned to his brother instead, eyes scanning him over quickly in a way that he hoped didn’t speak of nightmares or worries that saving him had all been a dream. He couldn’t seem to stop the small sigh of relief though as he took in the pale and dishevelled image of his brother. He still looked weary and the worse for wear but he held a childish gleeful gleam to his eyes that Stan hadn’t seen since they were kids themselves. “How you doing, Sixer?”

“Much better now I’ve had these two looking after me.” Ford gave a shaky tired grin at the two chirps of happiness and pride he got in return.

“See?”

Stan huffed. “Yeah, yeah, well you still look like you need rest to me.” He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing as the two kids groaned, Ford stifling his own laughter with his fist.

“No, no. These two have seen to that.” Ford raised the mug that was in his other hand, slipping it feebly onto the bedside table beside him before resting back into all the pillows. His eyes sparkled away at Stan defiantly.

Stan couldn’t help the twitch to his mouth.

_So, it’s gonna be like that, is it?_

“Oh, what’s that? I hope that was hot chocolate and not some of that god awful Mabel juice or you’ll never sleep again!” Stan gave a dramatic shake to his head as he put his hands on his hips, turning to look at Mabel suspiciously.

“No! Actually, it was coffee.” Mabel smiled proudly at him, knitting needle still waving precariously.

“Oh, well then that’s fi- wait what?” Stan blinked at the pair of them, horrified. “You two made coffee?”

“Yeah, it’s not that hard. We make hot chocolate all the time.” Dipper shrugged, looking at Mabel like it was obvious.

“Yeah! We found some instant coffee buried at the back of the cupboard too, so we didn’t even have to use your weird coffee machine!”

“Oh for the love of- so, how much coffee did you put in the cup?”

“…The same as hot chocolate? Three spoonfuls? I mean I didn’t even add any sugar until Grunkle Ford asked!” Mabel shook her head at him before turning back to her knitting with a smile. “So Grunkle Ford likes his coffee like I like my hot chocolate. Two spoonfuls of sugar!”

Stan blinked at them both for a few more seconds horrified before turning back to Ford who looked like suddenly everything was making sense. “Really?”

“I thought I had become unaccustomed to the taste after not having any for so long.” Ford blinked, staring at the cup before up at Stan with a bemused look. “No wonder I feel so awake.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

There was silence for a few minutes as Stan tried to muddle through quite how to deal with the situation at hand now.

“So… does that mean we can stay and talk?”

“Well, that depends on, uhm… food! Have any of you eaten yet?” Stan cast around for anything, glad when he hit on something else that was necessary in that moment though his smile dampened as the twins nodded. “You have?” The twins nodded again without elaborating and he sighed, casting his eyes back to Ford worriedly. At least he seemed ok. The nod he gave was less concerning than the twins. Stan reasoned with himself that he wouldn’t let them feed him anything that he wouldn’t be able to keep down in the circumstances. Or so he hoped anyway. He turned back to the kids with a disgruntled expression, a small nagging disappointment bubbling up as he connected the dots. “Why didn’t you two just wake me up instead of going behind my back?” He tried not to wince as they looked guilty, a small noise of protest rumbling up from behind him along with shifting as Ford went to sit up again. “Did you want to ask him questions you couldn’t ask with me about?”

“Stan, that’s not fair-”

“What? _No_ , that’s not it!” Dipper shot up from where he was lounging at Stan’s words, hands waving profusely as his journal slipped into his lap. “Of course not!”

His distressed expression caught Stan off guard, a sudden all-consuming sensation that perhaps he was getting this all wrong filling him. “No? Then… why?”

“We did come up and check on you, but you were so fast asleep…”

Stan turned to Mabel then, watched her glance at him worriedly for just a second before her eyes shot back to her hands, a deep frown marring her features.

He hated that, worry twisting in his stomach. His little Mabel was always meant to be smiling.

He punched things that upset her, he was never meant to _make_ her upset.

“I, uhh, I’d have still liked you to have woken me up.”

“Grunkle Stan, you haven’t slept for like a week.”

The voice was quiet, soft and sad but somehow it filled up the entire room.

He could feel two eyes burning holes into the back of his skull as well but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and see whatever they held in them. Concern? Guilt? Understanding? …Irritation?

Whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t stomach it.

“I- huh?”

The two kids locked eyes with him, the motion freezing him beneath their combined gazes.

Of course they’d noticed, how did he ever think they wouldn’t have noticed?

They were smart kids, just because they hadn’t said anything didn’t mean they hadn’t noticed the signs.

“I mean, you don’t sleep much anyway. We always knew that- I mean we’ve never once seen you make a new exhibit for the Shack but suddenly some mornings you have them.”

“Yeah! And I know how long some of those things take, you can’t fool me. You’ve spent hours and hours on those exhibits this summer and not once have we seen that.”

_Oh._

The exhibits were always things to help keep him awake, not the other way around.

“And you were always up before us, and went to bed later than us. But things were… different this week? Ever since-”

_Ever since Ford said goodbye._

“Yeah, ever since…”

Stan blinked as he heard a sniffle, the room zoning back into focus as Dipper rubbed at his eye and looked away from the others. He didn’t say anything as the boy fought whatever was stopping him from speaking, waited for him to say whatever it was that needed to come out.

Until suddenly the situation hit him like a punch to the gut, winding him.

_He thinks I haven’t slept because I was scared he was going to do something reckless._

“Hey, hey, kid. Look there were a lot of things stopping me sleeping.” Stan shrugged, stretching his arms above him nonchalantly. “It’s all part and parcel with working a day job and being a lighthouse keeper, you know?”

“But you’re not-”

“Not what? A lighthouse keeper? I think I proved that last night, didn’t I?” Stan gave a bright grin, trying to dispel the atmosphere. He really didn’t feel up for the emotional rollercoaster of asking his brother if he had actually said goodbye to him or not. Nor did he feel up to spilling out that he had thought that he was running out of time in general. That the stress, the now or never had eaten away at him. Not to mention the fear of losing the kids as well to that thing below the waves-

**No** _. Don’t think, none of it matters. It’s all over now, it’s all ok._

“So yeah, I slept a bit worse this week. Big deal. I’m fine-”

“ _No_.” Mabel stood up then, grabbing him and pulling him bodily over to sit at the end of the bed before sitting on top of him. Her eyes scanned him worriedly and made his brain blank out as he tried to compute how to get that pained expression off her face. “No, you’re not. You pretend to be but you’re not.”

“I’m fine, sweetie.”

“No.” Dipper joined in then, forceful and assertive. “You’re better than fine. You’re a hero!”

“Wait, what?”

“You saved someone yesterday! Last night you went out in a storm, you dived into the sea without a thought. And don’t tell me you didn’t hurt yourself, we saw everything- well until the light went out that is.” Dipper nodded as if that explained everything even when Stan continued to stare at him nonplussed. He sighed as if it was obvious, shaking his head. “We were gonna let you have all the sleep you needed. You deserved a rest after that.”

“You needed a good night’s sleep and we wanted to make sure you got that.” Mabel muttered, giving him a tight squeeze of a hug. “We didn’t wake Grunkle Ford up either, we waited until he woke up. He wasn’t the only one that needed taking care of though, and you wouldn’t really let us last night.”

“O-Oh.”

“You sat up and answered all our questions, even though you were exhausted. We even said it could wait but you kept shaking your head and said it was obvious we still had questions. We would have waited, Grunkle Stan.”

“I know… I just didn’t think you should have to. I’d left you in the dark long enough.” Stan flinched at his own words, unable to look up at Ford as the insensitive sentence left him.

_Well done, knucklehead. You left someone else in the dark a lot longer…_

A small hand took his own, he glanced over at Dipper, his eyes bold and unflinching as Mabel continued to hug him.

“We could have waited.”

“Y-yeah, OK, kid, I heard you both the first time.”

Dipper smiled at him, the expression wobbly and hiding a lot behind it as far as Stan could tell. “Didn’t seem like it was sinking in.”

“Didn’t- come here ya little pipsqueak.” Stan growled jokingly, grabbing him in a headlock for a short second as he squeaked in shock. It soon turned into a hug though, his other arm wrapping around Mabel. “But for future reference, I’m the one that worries about you two, not the other way round, you hear?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Gonna have to agree with the kids there, Stanley. Did you really not sleep for a week?”

Stan blinked over at Ford, almost shocked he had spoken. He tried to keep his face blank as Ford watched him like a hawk. He could read him like a book, could see the way he was trying to figure out just what had happened to Stan for that to happen.

_He doesn’t know?  
…Let’s keep it that way._

Besides, that fretful look was comical on someone who looked like a small gust of wind would knock them over, if they could even drum up the energy to stand up in the first place. “What? You’re one to talk, Sixer. You tried to tell me you didn’t need sleep last night after almost drowning.”

“Yes, but-”

“ _And_ I know you. You’ve done more all-nighters than any person I know and that’s including the fact that we stopped talking when we were _seventeen_.”

A sudden still silence filled the air as the three occupants watched Stan pale considerably at his own words, a soft groan escaping him as he rubbed a hand down his face.

“Do I keep putting my foot in my mouth? Or is that just me?”

Ford coughed quietly, awkwardly. “So, you… you told them?”

Stan’s head shot up before he could finish, eyes wide and alarmed. “Yes and no! I told them… not details. I didn’t want to…” He looked away quickly, his shoulders hunching around his ears. “I just said we’d had an argument and I left home.”

“Grunkle Stan didn’t seem to want to talk about it so we didn’t push.”

_Coward._

Stan gulped. “Thought that it would be best to leave that up to you.” He glanced at Ford before looking away again. “It was only because they asked why I had taken your name and how no one noticed.”

“No one…?”

“Nope.” Stan couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he also could feel the pitying gaze that Ford was throwing him and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “I’d been disowned after all, easy enough never to bring up that you have a twin when no one else brings you- him up either.” Stan shook his head, grinning brightly though how forced it was, was all too clear. “Plus, Ma never actually came up here so wasn’t like I had to pretend all that much.” He waved his hands at Ford before shrugging again. “Anyway, I just skimmed things that side, they were more interested in what happened thirty years ago and what happened last night, really. My side of it all, at least.”

“I’m interested in that as well.”

Stan sniffed loudly as Ford continued to watch him, curiosity piqued. “Yeah well, I’m interested in your side and I’ve done enough talking for a bit. So, how about it?”

“But-”

“What?” Stan grinned, pushing away the lingering pain and anxiety of bringing up memories best left alone. He didn’t want Ford angry at him, not again, not now. “You too tired to tell your side? Want us to leave you to it so you can get more rest?”

Ford glowered at him, sibling annoyance, endearing and troublesome radiating off of him and Stan couldn’t help the gleeful cheekiness blooming in his smirk.

That kind of irritation he could deal with, in fact he loved it.

Some things never changed, and he couldn’t help but be glad of that.

“Fine.”

“Hmm? I was kidding, Sixer, go back to sleep.”

Ford straightened his back, glancing at Mabel. “Can I have another coffee?”

“No. No, you can’t. Mabel don’t encourage him.”

Ford smirked. “I was kidding, _Ma_.” He huffed out a small laugh as Mabel and Dipper shuffled back into their positions on the bed, Stan also curious behind the doubt. “I’m fine, I’d tell you otherwise.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Fair, but I also fell asleep on you last night when you tried to introduce us all on the beach- or so the kids have told me- so I don’t think I get a say in the matter either really.”

Stan snorted, shaking his head at the confession. It wasn’t exactly a comforting thought but at least if Ford fell asleep on them then Stan knew that they were done for the day and had an excuse to make sure the kids left him alone. “Fine. But seriously, Sixer, you might not want to sleep but you do need to rest up.”

“You really aren’t one to talk so I’m going to ignore that entirely.” Ford turned to the kids before Stan could say another word. “So, what do you want to know?”

Dipper looked like he might explode from all the questions, a multitude slipping past his lips in quick succession, a torrent that the others found hard to keep up with. “Oh! Uhh, well, what actually happened when you disappeared? Grunkle Stan doesn’t actually know ‘cause the light went off- and where have you been these last thirty years? You can’t _just_ have been at the bottom of the ocean, that’s impossible! Is there something down there? Somewhere liveable? Like Atlantis? How come you couldn’t escape without the light? And-”

“How about-” Mabel stifled Dipper’s mouth with a hand, patting him on the head with the other. “How about we let Grunkle Ford actually answer a question, Dip-Dop?”

“Oh! Right! Of course.” Dipper flushed, the words stuttering out of him in embarrassment. “So- the first one first?”

“Yeah, first things, first. What were you doing out on the sea that night?”

Ford blinked, realising that he actually had a solid question to answer. Stan had been stifling his laughter at the lost expression that had adorned his face when Dipper had thrown what felt like ten questions at once at him. However, the laughter vanished when they decided on a question, eyes locking on to Ford as if he was just as interested in the answer too. “Oh- OK, start at the beginning, right? That makes sense…” Ford frowned, biting at his lip as he thought how to explain.

“It’s… let’s see. I think to answer that I have to go back a little bit further. This lighthouse has an interesting array of stories- in fact this entire bay does, it’s why I moved here in the first place. I started researching, looking up all the myths and legends I could get my hands on and they all led me to the same conclusion. There was something out there in the water that was causing all the anomalous activity.”

Dipper squealed quietly, a happy excited noise as his eyes lit up. “I knew it!”

Ford nodded, a small smile on his face, though it was wistful and nostalgic. “Ahh, yes, that was the feeling I had. All this… knowledge! Just waiting for me out there. I started to dream about it, I never saw anything, just a voice, telling me to keep going, that everything I wanted was just within my grasp if only I kept searching…” He went quiet again, hands fidgeting with the bedding around him. “At the time, I wasn’t sure if the voice was real or wishful thinking but I took it as a good sign. I started to search the waters more and more. The voice gave me hints, helpful little tips. When it would be best to go out, when not to… It seemed to get more coherent the more I focused on it. But then, my assistant- he saw something out there one night, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. He just left without a word. I should have realised then, should have stopped there but I needed to know what had caused his sudden departure. I needed to see it for myself.”

“Sixer…”

Ford closed his eyes at the disappointed voice. “I know, I know. Always was too curious for my own good, wasn’t I?”

Stan huffed, shaking his head. “You never did know when to quit.”

“Says the man whose been- did you say it’s been thirty years?”

“Let’s not go there yet.” Stan worried at his lip, watching the dawning comprehension of just how much time he had missed slide across Ford’s face. “What happened once you were out there? I mean, I know what happened my side but I want to hear your story first before I interject anything.”

“…Alright.” Ford shook his head, pushing down the troublesome thoughts as he let himself sink into the memories. It was nice after all this time to have all of his memories easily accessible just as they should be. Though he could already feel himself lagging slightly as all of them bubbled up before his eyes. “Well, nothing happened to begin with. I kept waiting and waiting for the voice to guide me but it never came.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, eyes glazing over as he almost forgot they were in the room with him, fully absorbed in the moment. “It was reckless of me, I know. I got out there, right where I thought the voice was coming from and the cloud coverage blocked out the moon entirely. All I had on me was a silly little flashlight that didn’t give me nearly enough light to get back to shore with.” He frowned, thoughts muddy and indistinct. “For a second there, I was sure I saw something shift in the water but before I could really see anything there was this blinding white light. It took me far too long to realise it was the lighthouse at the time- after all that thing had never worked in all the time I’d been there. Not that I had kept at it. I’d had a play around up there on nights when the entire mystery of this place was frustrating me and I needed something to clear my head and put myself to work with but, it never lit- no matter what me or Fiddleford tried.” He shook his head, realising he was going off topic. “Anyway, the light blinded me, I just hadn’t expected it, and I had no idea what was going on. Then something hit the boat while I was preoccupied and I fell overboard. Before I could really adjust to it all, the light vanished and- I don’t really remember what happened after that point, but-”

“Grunkle Stan?”

Ford jolted back into the room as a small troubled voice cut through the fog.

He couldn’t help the tremor of unease that went through him as Stan sat there, frozen and pained, his own eyes glazing over as if he was seeing something none of them could. “Stan?”

“The creature needs the light.”

“Yes!” Ford nodded enthusiastically, not realising his words were sending Stan deeper into the spiral, not realising Stan’s little whisper had been laced with a dreaded realisation as he sat at the end of the bed letting the insidious whispers overflow. “Yes, exactly. The light helped the creature break through the surface! It must not have had enough strength to escape entirely- or perhaps the light went out too quickly, but it did manage to pull me down-”

“I-I did this. I really did do it.” Stan still stared into the middle distance, ignoring the insistent tug on his sleeve, eyebrows furrowing darkly. He’d only meant to help Ford, that’s all he’d ever wanted to do and yet look where it had gotten him? Ford would have been fine without him, if only he had realised that at the time. If he had listened to the voice that had told him Ford didn’t need him then this would never have happened. A bubble of hollow laughter tore out of his throat, but he was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice the cringe that went around the room at the noise. “The nightmares were true, I caused all of this.”

“What? No, that’s not what I-”

Ford flinched as Stan turned to him, his eyes no longer filled with the spark of glee they’d been holding all this time. They had grown despondent and dark, his voice choking up as he spoke, filled with a warble of pain and self-loathing that made Ford’s heart break. “But I did, didn’t I? You said it yourself, the- whatever it is down there needs the light. I turned the light on and lost you- I-” Stan rubbed at his face, standing up suddenly and ignoring the yelps as he dislodged two very fretful kids who had been shuffling closer to him. “I’ve just been clearing up another one of my mistakes again, s’all I ever do, useless-”

“Stan-”

“What? Sixer, don’t act like it’s not true.” Stan snapped, spinning around to add more, until with a start he caught sight of the kids. Both of them stared up at him, perplexed and worried by his abrupt change in attitude. “U-uhh, shoot, sorry kids, ignore me. I’m just gonna- you guys carry on talking, I’ll just be-” He gestured behind him, feet already moving him quickly towards the door. He couldn’t quite stop the shake that was going through him no matter how hard he tried to.

“Stan, stop.”

Stan shook his head, not another word able to make it past the thrumming guilt lodged thickly in his throat. A harsh mess of anger and shame was swirling around and around in his head, making it hard for him to think straight. He turned quickly as Ford’s face dropped further, as the kids glanced at one another in alarm. He didn’t want them to see, didn’t want any of them to know. He just needed a while to piece himself back together, to pretend that everything was alright and then when the time came he’d get out of their hair before he caused any more calamities.

“ _Stan, stop_.”

Stan froze at the power in the voice, the thrum of determination stilling his thoughts even though the words themselves were weak and thready. He couldn’t move forward but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around, a soft low chuckle escaping him as he heard someone shifting around when he refused to budge an inch further. “Ford, get back in bed. I don’t need to turn around to know what you’re up to at the moment.”

“No. Not until you stop and get back here.”

Stan grit his teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I’ve stopped, haven’t I? That’s all you’re gonna get at the moment.”

There was an irritated sigh from behind him and the distinct lack of his instructions being followed. He was just about to open his mouth and repeat that Ford should _go back to bed_ , when Ford beat him to it.

“Hey, kids, do you think you could give me and your Grunkle Stan a minute?”

Stan shook slightly, a small tremor that he hoped no one else saw while they were discussing what to do next. If they did, no one said anything as the kids agreed and slipped past him. Both gave his hand a quick squeeze as they went, closing the door behind them with another quick small glance at him as if to give him confidence.

Stan bit his lip, turning away from the hopeful smiles. He couldn’t quite bring himself to try to smile back.

_This is it. Ford’s realised as well. You always mess everything up. Always._  
This is it. You expected this, really, in a way.  
…I just hadn’t expected it so quickly.

“Stan.”

“I thought you were getting back in bed.” The words slipped out without conscious effort, the gruff scolding wobbling out even while his head was in shambles.

After all, it didn’t matter if Ford was angry at him, didn’t matter if this was it and he was going to be told to leave. What mattered was that Ford needed to get better and Stan was pretty sure if he wasn’t careful he’d end up a heap on the floor.

“Not until you turn around.”

There was a small faltering step towards him, a huff of irritation and pain as Ford tried his best to move. Stan sighed, unable to ignore him anymore and turned, darting forward just as Ford took another step and his legs gave out under him. “Oh for the love of-” Stan grabbed him, hoisting him back up and into bed in one fluid movement, but as soon as he went to let go Ford clung to him, his grip stronger than Stan had expected as he kept him held there. Stan ignored him, pretending that he wasn’t keeping him there and focusing instead on bundling him up, the shivers evident just from that small trip out of the covers. “Stubborn old nerd, you need to rest up and stay warm. What were you thinking, eh?”

Ford grinned cheekily at him. “Got you to turn around, didn’t it?”

Stan rolled his eyes, his face unimpressed. “Yep, guess it did. Now what?”

“Now you sit down and we talk. We’re not doing this again, that not communicating lark is what got us here in the first place.”

Stan snorted, shaking his head as the laughter in his head took on a new sharp derisive quality. “Is _that_ what got us here? Cause I’m pretty sure that’s not true but-”

“Oh, will you just be quiet and sit down?”

Stan scowled, his words lost in the interruption though Ford didn’t seem to care in the slightest as he continued to watch him unimpressed. “Well, if you let go of me, maybe I could actually do just that.”

Ford blinked owlishly before staring back down, grip still tight on Stan’s jacket. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “How do I know you won’t just walk away?”

Stan barked out a laugh, not expecting the childish attitude or expression from his brother. “Well, for one there are two kids outside who will probably push me back in if I try. And two-” He tucked the blankets up further around Ford. “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t just do as you’re told and stay in bed if I did, now would you?”

Ford hummed thoughtfully for a few more moments before letting him go. “Nope, no I would not.”

Stan couldn’t help the small chirp of victory, a cheeky grin forming as he shuffled back and sat on the edge of the bed where Ford couldn’t reach him. A disgruntled, almost pained noise followed him, adding fuel to the fire.

“Well, I guess that’s the best I’m going to get in the circumstances, isn’t it?” Ford sighed, shaking his head, all humour seemingly lost as he regarded his brother.

Stan sobered up instantly, the smile vanishing as he stared at his hands. He could feel the gaze burning into the side of his head and began to wonder how Ford was going to do it. Would he get angry? Would he try to be gentle but forceful? Either way there weren’t many positive outcomes he could see happening with this conversation.

He squared his shoulders, back straightening as he stared at the door the kids had slipped out through.

If this was happening, he might as well bite the bullet and get the ball rolling himself.

“S-So, you get it now, right? If I hadn’t been about that night, none of this would have ever happened.”

“Yes.”

Stan winced, mouth snapping shut as his eyes flickered for just a second to his twin, wondering if the ache in his chest was evident on his face.

“…But something worse might have happened too.”

Stan choked on an ironic bubble of laughter. “Worse? How’d you figure that?”

“Stan.” Ford shuffled upright as much as he could, though it became apparent quickly that he couldn’t reach Stan with his hand. Instead he settled for nudging him with his foot, smirking at the jolt of a reaction that had his brother finally turning to him properly. “You didn’t do this. The creature- the… well, whatever it is, did. For one, I should never have been out there in the first place. You could blame my curiosity as much as anything else.” Ford glared as Stan went to protest. “Look Stan, think about it. Beast or no beast, I was out at sea in the middle of the night with significant cloud cover. Without a light to guide me home, I might never have-”

“Don’t. _Please don’t_.”

Ford’s mouth snapped shut at the pure agony that laced Stan’s words. Their eyes locked for a second, and Ford’s heart ached wondering just what was making his brother plea like that. “OK, sorry.”

“N-not like the light helped you home, anyway.”

Ford gave him a thin lipped smile, not liking how his voice wobbled plaintively. “Maybe not that time.” He growled when Stan shook his head and looked away again. “OK, alright, that time it didn’t but imagine if you hadn’t turned on the light. You think that creature would have let me just come home again, anyway?”

“I mean- I dunno, it didn’t seem like it could do much when the light went out.”

“I saw it lure you to the edge of the ship, Stan.” Ford’s words were hushed, but they carried through the air. He saw Stan freeze, shake his head to deny it even to himself. “That creature’s words… something about it just pulls you in, it makes you want to follow it’s instructions.”

“I… really don’t want to think about you willingly jumping overboard or something, Sixer, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything, Stan, I’m saying there’s any number of things that could have happened that would have been far worse. That’s all. At least I’m here now- I’m home _now_ , you know? _You got me home_.” Ford sighed as Stan seemed to still be doubtful, wavering on the edge as if this was not quite where he expected any of this to go. “Besides you had no idea what that light would do-”

“That doesn’t matter!” Stan stood up then, pacing a hole in the floor, hands gesturing as he went. “I’ve thought about this for thirty years, Stanford! You think I didn’t wonder if I’d caused all this? Didn’t run it all through in my head night after night? Didn’t think that maybe I’d blinded you with the light and you couldn’t fight off that- that _thing_? Cause I saw it that night, Ford, I did, before the light came on. I didn’t want to believe it, but now… now I know it was there and all I did was make things worse. _As usual_.” Stan bit at the inside of his cheek, the sharp sting keeping him centred, kept the words flowing instead of the tears that threatened to worm their way out. “So many nightmares, so many different possibilities, all jumbling together- and now I know which one was true. I did this, Ford, I did. First your science project and then this- every time I’m near you I just mess things up.” He rubbed a hand down his face as he went. “Alright, so I didn’t know, and all I really wanted to do was make sure you got back to shore. I mean, it’s a lighthouse for crying out loud, that’s what it’s meant to do! But that doesn’t change the fact that-” He stopped in his tirade, his shoulders slumping as he turned back to Ford. His entire body seemed to sag, making him smaller as he gripped his arms tightly. “You can say that it could have been worse, but it could have been a hell of a lot better if I’d never showed up as well.”

“No use…”

Stan frowned, squinting as Ford’s mouth went slack, his mouth moving as if he was muttering something that Stan couldn’t quite catch. Whatever it was seemed to give his brother new resolve, his eyes lighting up with a fierce determination that had Stan hunching inwards further.

_This is it. He’s got to agree with that._

“Stan. If you hadn’t stuck by me for the last thirty years I would never have gotten home.”

“But-”

“ _No_. No ‘buts’ no ‘what ifs’. It happened and we can’t change that. And it was not your fault. _You_ didn’t ask for this, _I_ didn’t ask for this.” Ford pointed out of the window, eyes stuck fast to Stan’s and locking him in place. “That thing out there? _It_ wanted this. For all I know it lured you up to the lighthouse just as easily as it lured me out to sea. You. Are. Not. To. Blame. Do I make myself clear?” He accentuated each word with another jab of his pointing finger, now resting squarely at Stan’s chest. “If you want to blame something, blame that creature out there. It wasn’t you that dragged me down into the sea, it wasn’t you that was holding me captive until you opened up the gateway again.” He gave a small warm smile. “And you know the best part?”

“There’s a best part?”

Ford’s smile grew, ignoring Stan’s sarcastic scepticism. “You beat it. You won. You managed to open up the gateway. Not only that, you managed to get me home _and_ leave it locked down there where it can’t hurt people again. You think just anyone could do that?” He groaned as Stan shrugged, though he took the small shuffle closer as a small triumph. “No, they couldn’t! Stan, you didn’t give up on me for _thirty years_. You could have. You’ve got a family, you’ve got people that care about you, a life of your own- and yet you didn’t ever stop.” Ford opened his arms up wide, his face smug. “I’ve got you to thank for being here, right now.”

“You really mean that?” Stan shuffled closer again, much like a wounded animal as he shifted back into his spot on the bed, still too far to touch much to Ford’s annoyance.

“Of course.”

There was silence for a moment. Ford knew there was more to all of this, too many years of silence and loneliness stuck fast in Stan’s chest. Too many nights of wondering ‘why’, of the voices eating away at him, of his own self-loathing bubbling up as years past and still he had nothing, in his eyes, to show for his hard work and dedication.

_No use to anyone_.

Ford didn’t like how heavily those words sat in his heart, sinking to his stomach as he wondered just how long it would take to piece Stan back together again and prove to him just how much he was worth.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you come here in the first place?”

“Huh? Oh, well…” Stan rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish, lies slipping off his tongue that he had meant to share with his brother years and years ago. “You see, Ma- she, asked me to call in, that’s all.”

Ford gave him a scathing look, crossing his arms as he sat back. “Uh-huh?”

Stan coughed, shaking himself as he turned to his brother, an innocent expression on his face as if he couldn’t believe Ford didn’t believe him. “What? You think I’m lying?” He couldn’t help the pout as Ford tilted his head at him, his eyebrows raised imperiously and eyes broaching no arguments. “Alright, alright- I wanted to see how you were doing, wanted to… you know.” He shrugged, waving his hand about as if none of that mattered. “So I spoke to Ma, asked where you were and- you know how dramatic she is, she laid it on thick that she’d seen you weren’t doing well, that you hadn’t spoken to her in ages-”

“Stan. Will you stop trying to put yourself down for just one minute?” Ford ran a hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted by this emotional rollercoaster of a conversation. He almost wanted to laugh at what his younger self would think of this moment, of the circumstances they were now in. “Look, unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to assume the lighthouse wasn’t your first port of call.”

“Yeah? So?”

“ _So_ \- you didn’t have to do anything, Stan. You could have knocked on my door and walked away. If you were only doing it out of some- obligation to Ma, you could have said you’d tried and left it at that. Brushed your hands of it. I for one wouldn’t have blamed you, considering we hadn’t spoken in, what? A decade at that point?”

“Ma would have been disappointed.”

“Yeah and you could have just said I’d slammed the door in your face. You’d have come up with something.” Ford shrugged, willing Stan to just listen to him for once, to actually sit and understand. Or perhaps he was willing himself to have the right words to explain it all, to not let his sleep addled brain jumble them up further. There was so much to try and form coherently that he wasn’t even sure that the sentences were melding together how they should. “But you didn’t. Had I left the door open? Did you check the house first? How long did you spend searching for me before you went to the lighthouse? You already said it wasn’t your first port of call.” Ford continued speaking, overriding whatever Stan was trying to interject, though by the shamefaced expression he knew that he was right, that Stan had tried to find him in his own house and felt guilty, of all things, for doing so. “So first the house, then for whatever reason the lighthouse- we’ll get to the ‘why’ and ‘how’ later, when you feel up to telling me everything. But Stan, all I’m trying to point out is that you climbed a lighthouse to put a light on for me out at sea. You came out here to check up on me, you wanted to make amends- things went wrong, I get that. But all you were trying to do was make sure I got home safe, right?”

“… Nothing mattered as long as you were OK.”

Ford gave a half smile, nodding. He slumped back into the pillows, worn out. “See? I can’t be angry at you for that.”

Silence reigned after those words, solid and heavy around them though Ford felt lighter, hollow and tired but warm as he pulled the blankets around him tighter.

“Besides, I’m just happy to be home.”

Stan’s face was warring when he finally glanced at him again, a mix of gleeful relief and pained disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite come to terms with this outcome.

“Yeah well, you can’t be angry at me for that then but… what about the science project?”

“Oh for-” Ford huffed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling as if he hoped it would give him strength. “That was forty years ago, Stan. A lifetime ago. Hell, it feels like it could have been centuries ago.”

“Yeah, but-”

“ _Stan_.” Ford felt triumphant as Stan’s mouth shut with a clap, his face once again hopeful instead of dejected. He reached out a hand, just about skimming the hand nearest to him where Stan sat, another point to him when he realised Stan had actually moved closer when he returned this time. “Honestly? In the whole scheme of things, that science project really isn’t the important point I want to hold on to.” He smiled at Stan, tired and worn from the emotional upheaval and overall conversation. “You spent thirty years refusing to budge an inch to get me home again. I think I’d like to focus on using that time to my advantage and making the most of what’s left. What about you? Do you want to spend it arguing?”

“What? _No_! Of course not.” Stan looked at him, rattled, as if Ford’s words wounded him.

“Well then, neither do I. I just got my brother back after forty years, I’d like to keep it that way.” Ford relaxed as Stan’s gaze turned soft, the giddy happiness that had been present earlier slowly making itself known again.

“You really mean that?”

“Of course. Now come here, you knucklehead. It’s been forty years, and I could _really_ use a hug.”

Stan didn’t need much more invitation than that, a bubble of excited laughter once again escaping him as he shuffled over and pulled his brother into a one armed hug. “God, it’s good to have you back, Sixer.”

“It’s good to _be_ back… All thanks to you.” Ford leant into the hug, not saying a word as Stan’s arm shook and tightened around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you this chapter got big! Couldn’t leave you guys hanging on them making amends now could we?


	11. Forces of Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! Hopefully with quite a few chapters over the next few days ♥

Stan hummed softly as he worked on a new exhibit in the kitchen, his fingers tapping as his mind wandered happily. There was a peaceful lull to the air, the quiet serene hush of early morning that left him wanting to fill the silence with some hustle and bustle to keep him occupied.

He coughed sharply, dragging himself out of the tranquil moment, eyes gazing around the room shiftily as his hands stopped entirely. He warily waited for the snap of a camera or a small excited chuckle to show he had been caught out even when nothing caught his eye to suggest the kids had found him.

It had been a few days since Ford had returned, and Stan was finding it increasingly more difficult to keep up the gruff façade that had been present for years.

Especially when he thought no one else was around to comment on it.

He added another lick of glue to his creation when he was sure that he was alone, shaking his head fondly as he glanced at the clock again. The kids had imposed a non-negotiable holiday on him that broached no arguments, no matter how many times he repeated that he was _perfectly_ _fine_. They said he needed rest and relaxation, and really, with Ford back and _talking_ to him again, he couldn’t actually complain about that anyway.

Plus the bruises were really beginning to bloom from his fight with Mother Nature, each one accompanied by aches and pains that were stopping him in his tracks even if he refused to admit it.

So perhaps rest and relaxation were exactly what he needed.

…Again, not that he’d ever admit that the kids were right in that regard.

Despite all the teasing bickering he had with the kids over the matter of actually resting, the crux that he refused to explain was that he still wasn’t used to it. There was suddenly all this spare time he had floating around, especially when everyone else was asleep and he was left to his own devices. He was finding it a struggle to sleep, as per usual. He’d almost hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but after, in his opinion, oversleeping the first night or so, sleep seemed to be even harder to come by. The exhausting events and the even more tiring conversations had knocked him out before he could even debate it and now his body seemed hell bent on punishing him for giving in by denying sleep at every available opportunity.

Which was how he now found himself here. Hours before anyone else would be up, sitting at the kitchen table creating a display for when the kids agreed he could go back to work.

Just a few hours every morning, nothing too big that might make the kids worry he’d been up all night and nothing too small to bore him entirely or let his mind wander places it shouldn’t when sleep was being particularly difficult.

He gave a sigh, shaking his head as he took in the paper mache monstrosity, wondering just how far he would have gotten with it, if he’d given up on trying to sleep like he’d wanted to earlier that night instead of trying his best to rest.

“The things I do for those kids.” The exasperated fondness seeped through every word and he was once again poignantly aware of just how far his voice travelled in the quiet and infinitely glad that no one was around to hear him.

Not that he minded making sure the kids weren’t concerned about him. A soft smile twitched across his face as the sun rose higher in the sky and left a trail of light flecks along his work. The light highlighted the features of it he was quite proud of, making him nod approvingly at the night’s accomplishment, even as his thoughts went to his niblings and their perturbing attitude to the entire series of events.

No, he didn’t want to worry them, he’d do anything to make sure they weren’t fretting about him. After all, they had other things to concern themselves with.

Ford was the priority. He was the one that they should all be looking after.

And yet not _one_ of them seemed to agree with him on that point.

All three of them seemed to be convinced that he needed to be looked after just as much as Ford, a concept he really couldn’t seem to get his head around. Why couldn’t they all see that Ford was the one that needed all the attention?

Before he could get back to his work, his mind was forced away from his musings by an abrupt clatter. The pitter patter of fast footfalls clambering down the old wooden stairs alerted him to the fact that someone else in the house was finally ready to face the day with him.

He grinned brightly, pushing his creation away as he stood up from the table. He groaned as his back twinged painfully at the abrupt motion. There was a small flair of panic as he debated whether or not he’d get told off for being up in general, and if he should therefore pretend he hadn’t been up for long but one glance at his work over the morning put that option far out of his head. He’d made quite a bit of headway in his latest project and he was sure that Mabel would notice that, whatever excuse he gave.

Better not to make it any worse by trying to lie to her, she would not take kindly to it.

Before he could come up with how to deal with the fallout though, a small bundle of brightly coloured fabrics appeared and disappeared passed the kitchen doorway, so quickly that if he had blinked he might have missed it. “What the-” He shuffled forwards, eyebrow raised as he peeked out of the room, watching Mabel fly past in a glittery puff of smoke as she grabbed something from the living room and darted back past him without even noticing him.

He blinked warily as the footsteps sped back up the stairs again, before making the decision to follow her, a sneaking suspicion sinking in that he knew exactly where she had headed.

Sure enough the sparkling trail she left behind, led straight to his brother’s bedroom door.

He gave another sigh, shaking his head as he walked forward to perch at the doorway. It was becoming routine to stand and watch the kids sit with his brother. Only the night before he was sure he’d told the kids they needed to go get some sleep themselves and yet found Dipper an hour later still sitting beside his brother. Both of them still wide awake as he asked questions about the creatures Ford had seen around the bay, scribbling away in his journal as he was regaled with story after story.

It didn’t seem to matter how many times he went through things- how Ford needed to rest, how they should try and take things slow- the kids and Ford just would not listen to him. It was like they were conspiring against him. All three of them adamant that everything was fine, even though Ford still hadn’t managed to get out of bed yet and was still exhausted by the smallest of activities.

“Hmm, I think I made it a bit big.” Mabel’s small disappointed voice cut through Stan’s thoughts just as he got to the entrance. He had to stifle a laugh, biting at his knuckle to stem the noise when he saw Ford swamped in a mass of red material.

“No, it’s perfect.” Ford shook his head, peering out with a gleeful smile as he ran his hands reverently up and down the sleeves.

“Hmm, I made it with Stan’s measurements and then a bit bigger for added cosiness but… I’ll make a better one next time.” Mabel was giving Ford a critical eye and Stan could feel his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain the chuckles, unable to ignore the small thought that if Ford stood up the sweater might fall to his knees. The image sent another wave of mirth washing over him. “When you’re up and about I’ll be able to take your measurements properly. Plus I’ll figure out a good design for the front of it!”

“Mabel, it’s lovely. It’s like a portable hug.” Ford burrowed into the warm material, the collar up around his nose so that only his eyes showed to get a chirp of laughter from Mabel.

“Well, if you’re sure… I’ll still make another one though! Or maybe two…” Mabel hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin before snapping her fingers and pointing at him with authority. “And don’t just think because you have a portable hug now that that means you don’t have to give me any!”

Ford dropped the collar, shaking his head fervently as if the mere thought wounded him. “Of course not. Where would I be without Mabel hugs?”

Mabel nodded approvingly, shuffling over to sit in his lap. “Good, because hugs are the best medicine. That’s just science! Even Dipper would have to agree with that.”

_I don’t think he would…_

Stan snickered from the corridor, the sound escaping through his hand and his amusement only continued to grow when he still wasn’t noticed. He watched as quietly as he could as Ford’s face grew grave, giving Mabel a sombre nod even as his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“True, very true. On that note, Doctor Mabel, what do you think? What’s the best course of action to get me up and about again?”

“Hmmmmm, let’s see, let’s see…” Mabel gave him an appraising look, leaning back as far as she could without dislodging herself before punching her fist into her palm. “I prescribe five hugs from your great niblings a day! That oughta do it!”

“Five each?”

“Of course!”

“Uh-huh, and that will get me feeling better?” Ford hummed, face thoughtful as if he was truly assessing her work.

“Of course it will! How couldn’t it?” Mabel looked scandalised as she stood on the bed. She gave him another evaluating look, this time more troubled. “Perhaps this was worse than I thought.”

_Eesh. You should watch the bedside manner there, kid._

“Well, I hadn’t actually finished my diagnosis yet, you interrupted me.” Mabel put her hands on her hips, satisfied only when Ford gestured at her in apology and let her continue. “Good, because I was also going to prescribe- uhm-” She frowned, eyebrows furrowing as she seemed to calculate something in her head quickly, mouth muttering along with it so fast that neither Stan or Ford could keep up. Quick as a flash she jolted out of whatever it was, pointing a finger at Ford’s chest as if he might disagree with her judgement, face stern and broaching no such arguments. “I _also_ prescribe ten Stan hugs a day as well as your daily nibling hugs.”

“Stan hugs?”

“Yeah, they’re good hugs.” Mabel beamed, sitting back down in her spot and getting comfortable again. “You should definitely have some Stan hugs to make you feel better.”

She didn’t have to say any more than that. It was obvious to Stan that Ford also got the hidden motive behind her words from the way he froze up, his bright amusement softening to an understanding smile.

Stan bit at his lip, glancing away as Ford pulled her in tight. Guilt wormed its way up his throat again, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth in response to Mabel’s troubled expression.

_You shouldn’t have let them see you like that. No wonder they’re worried, you made it pretty darn obvious you two had argued a lot in the past._

_She wants to make sure you’re both getting along._

Stan hated to admit, his teeth biting harder into his lip, that he’d also like clarification on that particular subject too.

“OK, that makes sense. Twenty hugs a day… well, I think that’s a good starting point at least.” Ford’s smile grew wide again at Mabel’s soft squeal of appreciation, her arms tight around his own. “Do you think we’ll be able to up the dosage as we go?”

“Hmm, let’s not get carried away just yet!”

A wobbly hiss of air escaped Stan too at their conversation, relief crushing the guilt that had been bubbling over and replacing it with a warm glow.

He knew deep down his doubts were baseless, that Ford had already made it clear that there was nothing to forgive. Knew that Ford wanted him around and wasn’t just pretending for his sake.

No matter how much the voices tried to persuade him otherwise, the whispers that said they’d all be fine if he left them to it. No, it was still hard to ignore them, especially when he was left to his own devices, but there was also one truthful little voice in his head that cut through them all to remind him that they’d all be sad if he ever did.

Besides, even if he was coming to terms with that all on his own, that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice to hear Ford agree with the sentiment to help speed up the process. Especially when Ford didn’t know he was there and could have easily told Mabel that he disagreed with her on that front.

“But you’ll let me know as we go along then, Doctor Mabel? I’m sure your prescription is just what I need but I think you should keep doing check-ups in case. You never know when emergency hugs might be needed.”

“Of course- oh! That reminds me.” Mabel crossed her arms, small face annoyed as she realised a loophole in her schemes. “No letting Grunkle Stan trick you! I’ve already prescribed him five hugs per day _all_ summer and it was a struggle to actually get them from him at the start! I don’t know why he was so against it.” She flopped back into Ford’s chest, glancing up at him horrified. “He was all ‘stop it kid! I’ve got work to do!’ like the tour didn’t think it was cute that I clung to his leg while he was taking them round!” She shook her head dramatically before staring at him again. “So yeah- These are extras for him too! I don’t want him thinking he can get out of his other hugs.”

“Of course not. Those other hugs were prescribed for a reason.”

“Exactly! These extra ten are ‘cause you both need a pick me up after the rescue attempt! He still needs his summer happiness hugs each day regardless!”

Stan snorted, unable to stop the sound escaping at their serious expressions. He shook his head as both of them jumped and turned to him, so he stood up with a stretch, pretending he had intended to make his presence know at that moment. “Don’t believe her lies, Sixer. I let her give me hugs. In my defence, you should sit her down now and define what a hug is. She’s got me caught because I didn’t and apparently, according to a certain someone, curling up watching ducktective for an hour on the sofa still only classes as one hug.”

Ford and Mabel looked at each other again, raising a disbelieving eyebrow in unison before turning back to Stan.

“Well, _duh_.”

“That’s just logical, Stan.”

“You’re not meant to agree-” Stan cut himself off, running a hand down his face whilst he shook his head, all to hide the bright smile that he couldn’t seem to shift from his face. “Alright, alright, you win that round. But- I thought we’d decided you were meant to come find me before you pestered Ford awake?”

“He was awake!” Mabel gestured wildly, or as wildly as she could when Ford still clung to her. “I was walking past to come downstairs and he called out so I thought it would be alright for me to give him the present I’ve been making him.”

“And it’s a great present, look.” Ford shook an arm at Stan to show off his sweater, even as the sleeve slipped over his hand. Stan couldn’t stop the endearing softness forming on his features as Ford seemed to beam at this new discovery and tugged the other sleeve over his hand too. “It even has gloves!”

“Huh, well that is a mighty fine- wait. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That.” Stan stepped into the room, pointing at a half hidden cup on the floor behind the bedside table. Ford’s sheepish expression told him all he needed to know. “Is that another cup of Mabel coffee?”

“No! It’s… actually Dipper coffee from last night?” Ford scratched at his cheek as even Mabel looked at him questionably. “I might have asked him to make me one so that we could continue chatting without worrying about me accidentally falling asleep.” He glared back in turn as Stan scowled reproachfully at him. “Stan, I haven’t talked to anyone properly in thirty years, I like having the kids around.” He hugged Mabel tighter, looking down at her. “Not that that’s the only reason. You two are amazing. It’s just very _very_ welcome after all that nonsense.”

“Understood. But even Doctor Mabel knows you need to sleep.”

Ford whined as if she had betrayed him as Stan beamed proudly, both of them in on the joke as they made it more serious than it actually was for Mabel. “But I don’t _want_ to sleep, Doc!”

“Noted. Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking twelve year olds to make you coffee. Should I be more or less worried that Dipper made it?”

“Hey!”

“Well, I didn’t have to add sugar this time?”

“Hmm… I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Stan shrugged before turning to Mabel, ready for Ford to argue further and deciding it was time to change the subject. Or rather, figure out how exactly to get around this particular challenge his brother was throwing him. “So, you’ve prescribed 10 hugs from me a day, huh?” He hummed thoughtfully as she nodded proudly, eyes gleaming as if daring him to argue. His mind mischievously ticked away. “Well that’s gonna have to come with some conditions of my own.” He scrutinised Ford and Mabel, both of them waiting with bated breath as they eyed him worriedly. “Now, I’d say something about meals but you seem to be wolfing them down without any trouble, so what to do, what to do…” He tapped at his chin as Ford raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was headed. “Now I’d say you get a hug for every hour of sleep you get but then I know you’d just lie to me-”

“Stan, I am not sleeping for 10 hours a day, I don’t care how much sleep you think I need-”

“No, no that won’t work at all.” Stan overruled him, his smile cheeky and more than a little worrisome to his twin. “I mean if _I’m_ honest I’d like _you_ to be honest and stop pretending you’re ok, when you’re obviously not… but I’m really not sure that’s possible, considering.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Stan huffed, pouting as Ford crossed his arms and gave him a defiant look. “And if I did that, then I’d never get to give you _any_ hugs and what would Mabel say to that?” His pout vanished to a wolfish grin again as both Ford and Mabel seemed to think they had won, a whoop of celebration on the tip of Mabel’s tongue just as he continued. “So instead, the easiest option is just to say that for every cup of coffee you drink a day, you get one less hug.”

There was a gasp from Mabel as she turned to Ford, who in turn was staring slack jawed at Stan. Of course, it was pretty obvious to both adults that the only way Ford could get away with not worrying the kids and showing his fatigue around them, was with that extra shot of caffeine every so often.

Stan couldn’t help the wicked smirk blooming on his face as Ford’s emotions flickered across his own. On one hand, artificial energy to spend more time with the kids, and on the other, hugs- which for some reason Stan was pretty sure were high up on his priority list from the way he gathered the kids up at every available opportunity.

“…That’s just cruel, Stan.”

“Yeah? Just for that, one less Mabel hug a day too- that goes for me too.”

“What?! No, you can’t do that!”

Stan shrugged nonchalantly as Mabel stood up agitatedly, his hands raised in disappointment. “What? You give him coffee- or Mabel juice for that matter, sweetie and I can’t give either of you a hug, simple as.”

Ford glared at him as Mabel turned plaintively to him to solve the conundrum. “One cup a day.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the compromise. “Only if I make it and you can’t have one in the evening.”

“…Fine.”

Stan clapped his hands, winking at Ford with a sly grin. “Glad we got that sorted.” He leant forward, scooping Mabel up into a hug. “Now then, _you_ should go have breakfast and Ford looks ready to curl up and fall asleep again in that blanket you’ve made him.”

“It’s a sweater!”

“Oh yeah, guess it is.” Stan winced jokingly as Mabel hit him on the shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Now go on, get out of here.” He put her down with a pat to the head. “Before I change my mind and add how many hours sleep he gets to my conditions instead of just coffee intake.”

A sharp high pitched squeak was all that was left behind as Mabel bolted out of the room before Stan could say anything more.

“That’s not fair, Stan, you know I like spending time with them.”

“Of course I do. But I don’t want you hurting yourself either.” Stan sighed, turning back into the room from where he’d been staring after Mabel with an affectionate look. He barked out a laugh when he caught sight of Ford again. “What do you look like?”

He could feel more than see Ford’s wide grin in return, his nose buried again in the sweater as he wrapped it tight around him. “What? It’s nice and warm.”

“You look ridiculous. It looks like the time you tried on Dad’s suit when we were kids and it swamped you.”

“You’re not _that_ much bigger than me.”

“You still look like that sweater’s swallowed you whole.”

“Maybe, but I love it all the same.” Ford dug his fingers into the fabric, eyes tired but happy as he snuggled into it. “Portable hug for when you guys are a-asleep.” He yawned, rubbing at his eyes as he curled up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know, Mabel was telling the truth. I’d been up for ages before I heard her come past… couldn’t… couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh?” Stan shuffled forward as Ford closed his eyes, frown marring his features. “Why’s that?”

Ford was silent for a moment, Stan almost thought he had fallen back to sleep. He stood up to leave, turning his back, when Ford finally spoke again.

“I had a dream that I was… back there, you know?”

Stan froze at the admission, the sad soft hesitation made Stan almost wish he hadn’t said anything in the first place.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Guess I’m not the only one still coming to terms with things.” Stan turned back to Ford, watching him take in the information sluggishly. “What can I say- sleep is hard.” Stan shrugged, brushing it off before Ford could debate anything with him considering his earlier scolding. “Maybe I should check in on you when I wake up early and see if you’re awake too.”

“Yes. Please.” Ford’s eyes were almost closed at that point, but the worried hesitation had lifted with the words. “I mean- you should. I was this close to trying to leave the room when I heard Mabel outside.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that-”

“Grunkle Stan! How long have you been up? This must have taken you hours!”

“Whoops.” Stan winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he heard the scolding voice echo up from the kitchen. He cautiously opened one eye in preparation of a berating look from the rooms other occupant but luckily Ford was already sound asleep. “ _Heh_. At least I don’t have to worry about you telling me off too, eh?”

* * *

“Alright! Where is he?!”

Ford startled awake at the loud angry voice petering up from downstairs to his room. He blinked, rubbing at his eye as he sat up fast, the room spinning slightly as he moved too quickly. “Stan?”

He frowned, glancing this way and that. The last thing he remembered was talking to Stan about Mabel’s present. He didn’t recall actually falling asleep but the sun was definitely higher in the sky now from what he could see.

Before he could really think anything more, the voice sounded again, harsh and irritated and leaving him worried for whoever was on the receiving end of the tirade.

“Don’t you hide him from me, Soos! Where is he?”

Ford wavered as the voice continued, propelling himself out of bed in an abrupt moment of decisiveness as he worried for Stan or the kids in the warpath of whoever had found their way into the house.

His feet did not agree with this course of action, and a hysterical voice in his head pointed out that he probably wouldn’t be of much use in any case but regardless he struggled ever forwards. Even if forwards meant gripping tightly onto the wall and shuffling around the edge of the room because floating in water for thirty years did little to be desired in the way of functioning muscle.

He had just reached the door as another echoing yell rumbled up the steps towards him.

“There you are! What on _earth_ were you thinking?!”

“H-hey, Wendy-”

Ford shuffling movements sped up when he heard the stutter of fear in Stan’s voice.

Whoever this ‘Wendy’ was, wasn’t to be trifled with, judging by Stan’s sudden apprehensive tone.

He slowed down as he reached the stairs, his energy waning as he struggled down each step, clinging tightly to the banister.

Falling down the flight of stairs to land at this Wendy’s feet seemed like more of a hindrance than a help, the notion at least giving him enough common sense to take it slow.

“What am I saying? You _weren’t_ thinking- that’s the damn problem!”

“Wendy! Language!”

“Don’t you ‘language’ me, old man! You’re the one that’s being told off!”

It took a few moments for Ford to process the scene once he found the source of all the yelling.

A teenager, fiery red hair and a temper to match, was standing tall and fierce in front of Stan, finger pointing dangerously at his chest as Stan raised his hands up defensively. Ford wasn’t sure if it was because of her intense presence or Stan’s reaction to it, but Stan looked decidedly small and hunched below her blazing eyes.

“You know what the sea is like– I know you do! We’ve had long conversations about it before when Dad went on his long work trips. And don’t pretend otherwise- I know how fretful you get when I go on trips with him! But _no_. The same rules don’t apply for Mr bigshot Stan Pines, do they?” Wendy raised her hands up in frustration before her voice got sarcastic, her arms gesturing mockingly. “Oh, look at me! I know what I’m doing, I can handle anything the sea throws at me. I’ll just go out and save someone in the middle of a storm on my own and get back fine, you just watch me!”

“Well, technically I did-”

“I’m not finished!” Wendy snapped, hand raised to Stan’s mouth as it closed with a snap. “Not _only_ did you go out on your own- Soos then tells me you jumped into the sea to rescue the person?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared imperiously at him. “Well?!”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to speak-” Ford couldn’t help but notice Stan’s flinch as the atmosphere became somehow more searing. “-yes, yes I dived into the sea, happy?”

“No! That’s the point!” Wendy ran a hand through her hair, her frustration evidently growing along with a frenzied panic behind her eyes that made Ford’s stomach clench guiltily. “You left your boat in choppy waters? To dive into the sea? Did you at least drop anchor? Please tell me you tied yourself to the boat at the very least.”

Ford was starkly reminded of a particular day back when they were kids and had shattered a lamp in the pawn shop. Luckily it had been Ma that had found them and it was probably because it was Ma that Stan had had a particularly guilty and apologetic expression on his face when she asked what had happened.

Stan’s very similar expression now was all the answer Ford or Wendy needed in response to her questions.

He didn’t know whether to be terrified or highly amused at the fact that Stan could weather an actual storm, dive headfirst into choppy waters _and_ fight off an eldritch horror from the depths- but a teenage girl on the warpath was successfully cowing him into submission with little effort.

“I mean, I did _think_ about tying myself down.” The grumble was defensive and held hardly any bite to it as if Stan knew deep down he really should just stop talking.

“Oh, he thought about it, that’s good to know! I mean thinking about it is almost as good as doing it, isn’t it?” Wendy raised her hands up in the air again as if she was done in general.

“Alright, alright. I get it. I wasn’t thinking. But can you blame me!” Stan glared, a heat of his own bubbling up as he crossed his arms. “I thought my brother was in trouble and I didn’t have time.”

“Stan, there’s always time for-”

“There wasn’t!” Stan growled, effectively cutting Wendy’s next tirade off mid swing. He sighed as she looked pained by his words, her fear radiating more than her anger. “Look, I’m sorry, kid. Really, I am, I have no excuses. But- I can safely say I don’t regret a thing. If I could go back, I wouldn’t change what I did.”

“That’s not comforting, Stan.” Wendy deflated. She tilted her head as Stan looked away from her, the genuine concern obviously too much for him to handle. “You realise the whole town was worried about you, right? Everyone came out to see if they could help.”

“S-so?”

“So, don’t go throwing your life around like that, you scared the shi- you scared us.”

The floorboard creaked below Ford’s foot before Stan could reply. Two sets of eyes snapped over to him, the fire seemingly sparking back in Wendy’s eyes. Ford gulped, suspecting the expression had something to do with putting Stan in danger the way he unintentionally had. He raised his hands up in submission, or tried to at the very least, one hand snaking back to the banister quickly as his legs wobbled. “I don’t want any part of this.” He couldn’t stress the words enough, his entire face fretful and blearily fatigued just from listening to the conversation.

_Please, I was just concerned by the yelling.  
I agree with you entirely. Please don’t yell at me… whoever you are._

_…I am far too tired for this._

“Oh, don’t listen to Windy Wendy. She just gets like this.” Stan ruffled Wendy’s hair, wincing as a hand shot out to grab his wrist.

“I am trying to have a serious conversation with you here!”

“Yeah? Well, it doesn’t suit you, _Windy_.”

“Sulking doesn’t suit you either, old man and yet I seem to be dealing with that today!” Wendy’s hand got dangerously close to Stan again before she spun back to Ford. “And _you_ -”

Ford winced, eyes squinted closed as he waited for the berating he was sure he was about to get even though he wasn’t entirely sure that was fair in the circumstances.

Well, no, if she knew that he had gone out on his boat in the middle of the night thirty years ago she might be scolding him but as it was- he really didn’t think he deserved being berated for being imprisoned for thirty years below the sea and having no choice in the matter of when and where he’d surface again.

But he thought it best not to point any of that out as he waited.

After all, he might berate Stan himself soon for the way he handled things.

He’d hate to think that both of them could have been lost to the sea that night.

“Oh, never mind.”

Ford blinked, eyes opening wide as he stared in shock at the girl who had visibly deflated and was scrutinising him with a hawkish gaze that held him frozen in place.

“Just so you know, I should be telling you off too. I mean, what were you doing out there in the first place? You could have gotten yourself and Stan killed! But, I’ll refrain because you look like a small gust of wind could knock you down.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Ford’s hand that had still been raised meekly promptly joined the hand that was gripping the banister tightly to keep him upright. “But please, once you know the full story, please feel free to berate me. I most definitely deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.” Stan rolled his eyes, storming up the steps towards him with a worried glint to his expression. “But Wendy’s right, you’re as white as a sheet, and that’s being kind. You ain’t meant to be out of bed, Sixer. You don’t even look like you’ll make it back on your own, come here.” He slid a hand around Ford’s waist, throwing his arm over his shoulder. “Stubborn old nerd.”

“Takes one to know one by the sounds of it.” Ford smiled tiredly as Stan chuckled.

It took until they were out of sight, when Stan gave a small whistle of relief, for him to realise that Stan had jumped at a very opportune distraction.

It seemed to take Wendy the same amount of time.

“Hey! Get back here, you! I’m not finished with you yet!”

Stan’s whistle turned innocent, pretending not to hear her as he continued down the corridor.

Fortunately a familiar small voice piped up.

Fortunate for Stan that is, unfortunate for those still in Wendy’s warpath.

“So… Does that mean Grunkle Stan can’t be mad at us for forgetting about the tide times, then?”

“…What was that? What does Mabel mean, Dipper?”

“W-well…” Dipper’s voice cracked, his shame obvious even from up the steps.

“…You Pines are going to be the death of me. _Guys_!”

Stan grimaced as Dipper started to stutter out excuses. “Sorry, kid. But rather you than me.” He refused to acknowledge the disappointed noise Ford made in response, instead choosing to blank all of them. In fact, his thoughts turned to more pressing matters, his speed increasing as Ford stumbled beside him, his legs giving out already.

It wasn’t until Ford was safely tucked back into bed that either of them spoke.

“So… she’s a force to be reckoned with it seems.”

“Yep, that she is. I think I’d rather face that storm again than another argument with her. So thanks for the diversion and quick getaway you gave me there.”

“…Good to know I’m useful.” Ford scoffed, shaking his head as he let Stan prop him up. “But she did have a point.”

“Oh, I know. She had some very good points.” Stan shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “And she’s right on a lot of things but, that doesn’t mean I’d do anything any differently, you know?”

“I know and I think she does to. That’s what worries her.” Ford frowned as they both went silent, Stan giving a nod and a long suffering sigh as his only response.

“You know that’s not the last you’ll hear on the matter, right? You can’t just run away from that conversation.”

“Yeah, but I’ll postpone it as long as I can, thank you very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Mabel and Wendy really are forces to be reckoned with, aren’t they? ♥


	12. Short Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ Mooooooore lighthouse keeper. Drown me in this au.

The stairs creaked beneath multiple sets of feet, the first real noise that Stan had heard that morning.

He gave a wry grin, glancing down at the mounting plates of food that had been growing beside him.

He’d grown restless that particular early morning. Mabel had forbidden him from working on exhibits unless she was around to help in the hopes he might stay in bed longer. As far as she knew she’d done just that, but suffice to say the reality of the situation was just a bit different to what Stan had been telling her. So between boring quiet early morning TV and the same old magazines he’d had lying around for years, his only real options were tidying up or cooking.

…He’d decided on cooking fairly quickly.

Plus he’d been hopeful that before long, some very curious and hungry kids would be enticed down to have breakfast with him and alleviate the boredom that was thrumming through him. He gave a soft chuckle as the footsteps, slower than usual, finally made their way to the bottom, whispers that he couldn’t quite hear hissing through the air.

It would seem his plan had been a success.

Stan raised an eyebrow as an echoing cheer reverberated from the kitchen doorway. A soft smile slid on to his face as he put the spatula down, casting a glance behind him in amusement. He hadn’t expected that much of a reaction. “What? It’s not that- _oh_.”

No one was visible outside the door.

He shook his head, taking the frying pan off the heat as he went to check up on the kids and whatever trouble they’d gotten themselves into now.

“What are you two-”

“No, stay in there!”

Stan blinked at the shout, body following the command even as his smile slipped, suspicion seeping into his tone. “Kids…”

“It’s a surprise, Grunkle Stan. Just- please?”

“Alright, alright, I’m waiting.” Stan put his hands up even though neither of them were there to see, shaking his head at the pleas. “But you better hurry otherwise your foods going to go cold.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. I’ve made it all the way down here for that.”

Stan jumped as a third voice joined the fray, his brother poking his head around the door frame with a triumphant beam, two small children hanging around his feet with matching ecstatic expressions. A voice in Stan’s head told him to scold him, to tell him that he should have waited for him in case anything happened on the way downstairs- but it was drowned out by Ford’s proud expression and the warm glow in his chest that Ford was on the mend. “Heh, look at you, Sixer. Up and about.” A bright smile was worming on to his face to match Ford’s until he caught sight of a sudden flash and he gave a gruff groan, mock glaring at Mabel. “I mean- took you long enough, I was beginning to worry.”

“I think you’ll find a very diligent doctor was making sure I got better before I attempted it.” Ford jokingly huffed, rolling his eyes as he came into the room. He kept a tight grip on the doorframe as he shuffled forwards before gripping the worktop instead. He paused for a second there, fingers running over the tile, dotting across the dips and lumps with an intrigued smile before focusing again on Stan.

Stan laughed, a small chuff as he gave Ford a knowing smile. “Need a hand there?”

“Maybe… I’m still getting there though.” Ford was looking at him in slight apprehension and Stan’s heart panged at the confliction that was there, the slight fear showing through the cracks in the pride that Stan would scold him and make him go back upstairs like a small child.

He couldn’t have that, he was only trying to help. He didn’t mean to fuss.

“Yeah, you’re doing great, Ford. But let’s not push too far.” Stan walked towards him but instead of wrapping an arm around his waist he stood with his back to him, letting him use his shoulder to keep him upright as he walked on his own.

“Thanks.” The word was heartfelt and made a gleeful bubble rest in Stan’s throat as his brother gave his shoulder a tight squeeze before finally sitting down at the table.

“Don’t mention it.” Stan clapped him on the back before playfully ruffling his hair. “Though, I am a bit confused. This doctor of yours… were they about when you decided to make that trek?”

“Nope.” Ford gave him a cheeky albeit sheepish look. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, you definitely did that. It’s good to see you back on your feet.” Stan shook his head, still holding the back of the chair, though he continued to give Ford a knowing look. “That the only reason, though? Your face says otherwise.”

“…I thought my doctor might disagree with my methods.”

“That sounds much more like it.”

“ _And_ \- I couldn’t resist that smell. Can we eat?”

Stan let out a bark of laughter at the gleeful childish expression on Ford’s face as he looked around excitedly for whatever smelt so good. “Alright, hold your horses, I wasn’t exactly expecting an audience. Let me grab what’s done for you.”

There was a clatter of movement behind him as he turned back to the stove, his back straightening as he froze up for a second. He slowly turned his head back around, Ford’s bemused expression catching his eye before his gaze landed on the twins now sat at the table as if they’d been there the entire time instead of outside the room waiting for them to be done talking. “I take it you two are hungry too then?”

Mabel shrugged innocently as Dipper nodded. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no…”

Stan huffed. “Wow, such enthusiasm. In that case Ford gets the first batch.”

“Aww, what-”

Stan ignored the whine, knowing without looking that there was still a smile on Mabel’s face instead of actual disappointment. He’d learnt to tell the difference between their joking voices and actual true distress, something that had been highlighted in stark contrast recently though he pushed that far from his mind.

After all, he’d only cooked up one of their favourite breakfasts for the ulterior motive of getting someone down to stop him tugging his hair out from boredom. It had nothing to do with hoping they’d forgive him for scaring them like that.

Nope, nothing to do with that all, he wasn’t making anything up to them. Anyone who said otherwise was a liar.

“Well, I’m glad I made pancakes now. Maybe part of me knew we’d be celebrating something this morning.”

“Pancakes?!” The yell was jarring even from where he stood, but considering all three of them had shouted at the same time, he assumed that none of them were hearing the ringing in his ears like he was.

He chuckled, gaze darting back to the three starry eyed gleams behind him before he went back to divvying up the pancakes he’d made so far. “Yup. Grab what toppings you want, but let’s try to not go overboard? I don’t want anyone being sick- actually, can you two grab some juice as well for everyone while you’re at it?” He pointed his spatula warningly without turning around. “No coffee just yet.”

He didn’t get a response, only a sudden flurry of movement as both kids set about covering the table top in different toppings, both babbling about what the best ones were.

“You have to try your pancakes with this one, Grunkle Ford- and maybe this one-”

“Oh, wow, I would never have put those flavours together.”

“Grunkle Stan’s pancakes are the _best_ , we normally only get them on his day off.”

“Is that so? Perhaps I should try some without anything on them first then.”

“Settle down you two, settle down.” Stan felt his shoulders shaking with the silent laughter bubbling through his chest. He stood for a second with his back to them, trying to school the fond expression on his face. Once he was sure he didn’t look quite so sappy he turned back to them, putting the plates down in front of them. He raised an eyebrow as they seemed to thrum with excitement, the joy spreading to Ford. He gave a gruff embarrassed cough, eyes darting away even as he felt heartened by their response. “Guys? Earth to you lot. They’re only pancakes-”

Before he could even finish the sentence Ford had dived into the stack.

The room was silent for a second as the kids covered theirs in toppings and Ford continued to devour the stack without much room to talk.

Stan just watched him in bemusement. “So… going to assume they’re good?”

Ford gave him a thumbs up, nodding only enough to continue swallowing before cutting another section. “They’re great. I didn’t realise quite how hungry I was.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got an appetite. But let’s slow down a little, yeah? You haven’t exactly eaten much in a long time.”

“Exactly! I haven’t.” Ford twisted his fork in the air as he ate through another mouthful, gesturing frantically. He gulped down the food with a grin. “I haven’t eaten in years, I need to make up for that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” Stan ran a hand down his face in endearing exasperation. “You know, your science sometimes seems a bit off, Sixer. I haven’t eaten in thirty years I’ll make up for that now, I’ve slept for thirty years I don’t need to sleep now-”

“But I _have_.”

“Doesn’t mean to say you can stay up all day and night.” Stan turned back to the stove, pouring some more batter into the pan. “But, before you argue anymore- do you want seconds?”

“Maybe after you’ve made yourself some and sat down for a bit.”

Stan blinked at the words, realising then that he hadn’t actually kept any back for himself. “Oh yeah, good point. Then we can see if you are actually still hungry once those have gone down.” He hummed, pulling another plate closer as he worked. “One stack of stancakes coming up for me.”

“Stancakes?”

“Yeah, well they’re not ordinary pancakes, now are they?”

“Grunkle Stan won’t give me the recipe.” Mabel’s fork hit the table with a chink that had Stan grinning.

“Trade secret. Otherwise you won’t come back to me for the best pancakes, now will you?”

“I’ll figure it out!” She waved her fork at him before becoming distracted. “Oh, Grunkle Ford, you should really try the sprinkles and chocolate chips and-”

“Whoa there. Let’s not pile them too high. We just talked about not getting sick.” Stan glanced back to see the mound of chocolate syrup that had been added to Ford’s stack with unfiltered glee. He narrowed his eyes as Ford stared at him innocently. “…Is this because I said you couldn’t have coffee?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mabel tells me this is the best way to eat them.” Ford covered the monstrosity with a heaping of sprinkles, eyes still locked to Stan’s.

“Yeah? ‘Cause it looks to me like you’re taking measures to make sure I don’t try and make you go to sleep at some point.”

“It looks like your science was flawed too. You shouldn’t have made excellent pancakes then if you didn’t think of that possibility.” Ford munched into the pile before Stan could say anything, mock innocence morphing into shocked delight halfway through. “Wow, this is pure sugar.”

“…That a good thing?”

“At the moment, it’s _perfect_.”

“Definitely no coffee for you today.” Stan sighed, grumbling loudly though without any bite to it as he turned back to the stove in defeat. He could still hear Mabel telling Ford about other combinations he should have on his next stack and mildly debated taking back the offer of seconds.

But on the other hand having the kitchen full of laughter and fun was one of those things he did love. Having the entire family sat around the table for as long as he could have them there sounded like a good way to spend the morning before he went to work.

Besides, he really had asked for this by making pancakes. It couldn’t hurt too much to just let things go and enjoy himself with them.

Though, he might follow Dipper’s route and skip out on most of Mabel’s concoctions, pancakes tasted good with just a few toppings not toppings with a dash of pancake.

“Wait, didn’t you say you two only got these on days off? Isn’t the Mystery… Shack reopening today?”

The steady clatter of cutlery faltered as Stan felt three sets of beady eyes heating up the back of his neck. “What? So I wanted to make pancakes this morning too, that a bad thing?”

“Grunkle Stan, have you been up all night making pancakes?”

“What? Of course not. They were still warm, weren’t they?” Stan gestured behind him wildly, not quite trusting himself if he turned around and looked at them. “I’ve only been up for an hour or so. Getting myself ready for the tours.”

“But we made sure you didn’t have an early one.”

Stan shrugged. “My clock’s still ticking to an old schedule, sweetie. It’s hard to break the habits. But honestly, I haven’t been making pancakes for that long this morning.” He bit his tongue as he grabbed his plate and sat down with them, stuffing in a bite to stop having to answer more questions and taking the burning batter as punishment.

After all, technically it wasn’t a lie. He had only been making pancakes for a short amount of time that morning.

The fact that he’d been up before then hadn’t been the question.

He gulped the bite down, wincing at the heat travelling down his throat. “S-so- that gives us time to work on that mermaid exhibit you were helping me with, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah! We still need to paint her, right?”

Stan nodded. “Yup, that’s the one. She won’t be ready for today probably, don’t want to rush, now do we?”

“Do you think I can join?”

Stan turned to Ford, eyebrows furrowing at the hesitant question. “No need to ask, of course you can join in. We could use your expertise on the colours.”

“Oh well, merpeople come in a variety of species and therefore their tail colourations can be based on a range of- but no, that wasn’t what I was asking.” Ford rubbed his neck nervously. “I meant, could I watch you do one of your tours?”

“Oh.” Stan felt shock permeate the air and the word as he looked down at his plate, gruff embarrassment bubbling up again nervously. “I mean, yeah, sure you can. If you really want to. I mean I don’t exactly stick to the facts… not that you heard that from me. So as long as you don’t interject and stuff, feel free. Don’t want the punters thinking I don’t know my stuff.”

“Of course not. I’ll try to… keep quiet.” Ford grinned, the hesitance vanishing quickly behind the sparkle in his eyes. “Besides I think it’ll be a lot of fun to be part of it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. I’m looking forward to it. After all, you’ve put a lot of work and effort into this place.” Ford looked outside the kitchen into the rest of the house with an interested hint to his gaze. “From what I’ve heard, you give quite the tour.”

“Yeah? W-who told you that?” Stan didn’t quite know what to do with the happy keenness to Ford’s voice or the proud grins the twins seemed to be throwing at him. He coughed into his drink for a second to get his thoughts back on track and to come up with some kind of grouchy retort. “Well, just make sure not to tire yourself out either.”

A voice inside his head laughed at him for the attempted brush off.

“Of course not. And on that note-” Ford held up his empty plate with a grin. “Can I have some more please?”

“… Yep, absolutely no coffee for you today.”

A bubble of infectious laughter ran around the room at that point. After a bit more bantering conversation, the kids finished up, both of them cleaning up quick for different reasons as Ford continued to eat.

Mabel darted in and out of the room, bringing with her various craft supplies for their joint venture, though Stan thought it best to go grab the ‘creature’ himself, worried that it was just a tad heavy for the twelve year old. Whilst he did though, he couldn’t quite help listening in as Dipper also vanished, only to return with his journal and ever clicking pen, pushing the closest chair even closer to Ford and sitting up straight, eyes gleaming with intrigue.

“So, Grunkle Ford, how many mermaids have you met? You said there’re more than one species so-”

Stan huffed out a laugh as Ford gulped down another bite of pancake before answering, his focus equally divided by conversation and good food in a way Stan had never actually thought would ever be possible. As it was, Ford seemed to ramble a lengthy answer to each of Dipper’s questions, hands gesturing eagerly as he went before taking another bite as Dipper scribbled it down, or chewing thoughtfully whilst toying with an answer to a more difficult question the boy threw at him.

Then again, Stan couldn’t really talk about being divided between jobs. The nerdy conversation and building excitement at someone else speaking on the same frequency was somehow more endearing than it usually would be. He was so busy listening to Ford and Dipper chatter away, that he was finding it increasingly difficult to veto Mabel’s design ideas for the exhibit.

So far, the mermaid was sporting a lot of bright colours that he felt would not do well for camouflage in the murky seas, nor would she actually fit in with many of his other exhibits, a beacon glowing painfully amongst the blues and greens. But Mabel’s comments that the mermaid might not need to camouflage, and that she in fact would want to be seen to help sailors, had made it difficult for him to point out other myths and legends that gave the creatures a much less desirable attitude to humans.

There was, however, a tight clasp on one particular bottle that Mabel had brought with her, and her frustrations were mounting at his steadfast refusal.

“Grunkle Ford!”

“Well, that would be because- oh, yes, Mabel?”

“You know mermaids, right? Grunkle Stan won’t agree with me that mermaids are meant to be beautiful and sparkly.”

“Well, I have to agree with you on that one… so what seems to be the issue?”

“He won’t let me add any glitter to her. It needs to look like she’s just come out of the water and is glittering in the sunlight.”

Ford turned to Stan, smile suspiciously smug as he nodded. “Of course. That makes perfect sense. Her tail scales at the very least should be glittery then.”

“See? I told you!”

“Well, I guess if the expert has spoken, I don’t know anything at all about these things.” Stan’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he dropped the small bottle of glitter to the table. “Can you at least go for the same colour as you’ve painted the tail?”

“Nope, it’s got to be blue cause it’s water that’s dripping off of her, of course.”

“Of course.” Stan glared as Ford bit his lip, trying to stem the giggles that were shaking through his entire body. “That makes so much sense, doesn’t it, expert?”

“All the sense in the world.” Ford turned back to Dipper, trying to school his face into a less self-satisfied smile. “Where were we?”

Dipper, however, stared at Stan, his face curious as if he was puzzling over a particularly hard riddle that had been laid before him.

Stan tilted his head at him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Dipper? I’m surprised anything can distract you when you’ve got someone right here to answer all your questions.”

“I actually have a question for you, Grunkle Stan.”

“…Oh.” Stan tried not to be unnerved by the determined glaze to the boy’s face. “Shoot?”

“Well, considering Grunkle Ford’s telling us about when he met merpeople, can you finally tell me what you meant when we were beach combing? You’ve met them too, right?”

“Wait what?”

Stan grinned as Ford turned sharply to him, mouth already open and full of questions. “What? You think I haven’t met a few creatures when I’ve lived here for so long?”

“That’s- of course, but you never said anything!”

Stan huffed at the betrayed look on Ford’s face as if he’d kept something from him. “I haven’t exactly had that much time yet. We’ve been answering a lot of other questions I recall… and making sure you weren’t going to keel over on me.”

“That’s not the point.” Ford scooted his chair closer. “So? What have you met? When? Actually, was it always here? Did you meet anything before you came here?”

“Whoa, slow down, slow down, you’re as bad as Dipper.”

“Hey!”

“Besides, Dipper asked first.” Stan was tempted to stick his tongue out as Ford looked about ready to explode with all his questions. “So, kid? What did you want to know?”

“What you meant by not trusting a mermaid if you met one.”

“Well, they’re tricky creatures, kid. Some are great and want to help you get out of the bad situations you got yourself into, some are more inclined to trick you into the water and make the situation ten times worse, that’s all.”

“ _That’s all_? How many subspecies have you met, Stan?”

Stan shrugged, standing up as his eyes found the clock. “Hmm, well would you look at the time. I need to get dressed before the tour starts.” A litany of disappointed cries echoed back at him, all three of them ready for stories.

“That’s not fair, Stan. You can’t leave us hanging like that.”

“I can and I will. Guess you’ll just have to not force yourself too much throughout the day so you can be awake later to hear the stories.” Stan looked nonchalantly at his hand as he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to join in the tour like you said you did.”

Ford’s eyes narrowed challengingly, the pout vanishing into a thin line of determination. “Fine, it’s a deal. Tour now and stories later- and I intend to be awake for them so no thinking you can get out of it.”

“Whatever you say, Sixer.” Stan winked at the kids as he made his way to the door. Both gave him defiant looks, as if adamant that Ford right and that he wasn’t getting out of telling stories later.

He poked his head back in the door just as he left. “You know, if you think that’s a good story. Wait until you hear about the sea serpent.” And with that he vanished, slipping up the stairs and hearing a cacophony of spluttering behind him.

“Wait, did you just say-? Stan? _Stan_!”

* * *

“What are you looking so worried for?” Ford tried not to smirk as Stan jumped, adjusting his shirt in the mirror before he went out to greet the customers milling about outside.

“I’m not worried. I do this job every day, what would I have to be worried about?” Stan coughed, surly look marring the face in the mirror.

Ford refrained from saying the expression looked particularly like their father. Or perhaps it didn’t, a bead of fretfulness buried deep within his eyes and present in the set of his mouth that would never have been in Filbrick’s. “Quite right, you’ve done this for years. So what’s different this time?”

Stan snorted. “Oh, nothing at all. Just the crowd out there is full of familiar faces from around town and this is the first tour I’ve given since- you know.”

“Oh.” Ford’s mouth went slack for a second, mind blanking before it rebooted with a soft fuzzy feeling. “They wanted to see how you were doing.”

Stan let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “Yeah, right. Nosy parkers probably want to know the whole story. It’s a small town, people gossip, it’s all they’ve got to do.”

Ford shook his head, laughing along with him as he stood beside him, making sure he was at least staring at his reflection if not him. “Well, I’m sure you’ve already thought up a story- or even the truth, it’s one hell of a tale.”

Stan nodded, shrugging. “I guess so, I’d rather not though.”

“Well, maybe I’m right and they won’t even ask. They want to see one of your tours again, they’ve missed them.” Ford gave him a soft shove, grinning when it was reciprocated.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, nerd.” Stan turned away from him, steeling himself at the door. “Besides, I guess the biggest difference is you’re here to see one.”

Before Ford could answer, the sudden realisation that he might be the reason Stan was nervous blooming thick and fast, Stan opened the door, a bright showman’s smile on his face.

“Well, looks like I’ve got a few return visitors today! You couldn’t get enough of this old man’s tales, eh? Well, I hope you listen carefully this time- you don’t want to be caught unaware by the creatures of the deep!”

“You can say that again.” Ford muttered, the words spilling out without conscious effort, something he found happened a lot now. He couldn’t help but smile apologetically as Stan turned back to him for a second irritated before turning back to the crowd with some half-hearted apology for his talkative brother.

Stan shook his head, gesturing the others inside before him. It didn’t go amiss as he did so how Ford waved tepidly at them all, face nervous at the sudden attention as all eyes locked on him. Stan struggled passed the group once they were all inside, starting up his spiel to drag any nosy gazes still directed behind the group back to him. He waited until they were all firmly hooked to glance around, nodding when he saw Ford standing right at the back and looking back at him gratefully. If he was honest he was relieved his twin wasn’t situated in the middle of the group in case he did decide it was too much and try to leave without drawing more attention to himself.

It really wasn’t the time to be thinking about any of that though. Stan straightened his back, gesturing with his cane for them to go into the first room before him again, whilst leading them forward with the myth of the occupant of their first exhibit. He grinned when even though he knew many had heard the story before they still shuffled around the edge as his story continued, as if they were hearing it for the first time and hadn’t expected the twisted tale.

Just as he was about to follow, his cane tapping the floor, a quick idea came to mind. He turned to Ford who had stood just inside the door, the last person to enter and seemed quite happy to stay as close to Stan as he could. “Here.” Stan whispered, taking Ford’s hand and placing it on to the top of the cane. “Might as well give you a helping hand if I want you to stay and watch the whole thing.”

The bright cheery beam he got in response was reward enough as Ford took the words he refused to say earlier to heart – that he wanted his brother there to watch him perform. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, how to escape the lure of this particular beast. Well, that’s quite a tricky one…”

The tour continued on, small short bursts of excitement filled with gasps of shock and awe. There was a buzz of anticipation that filtered through as Stan went on, helping him relax further and further into the persona without any more trouble.

There was something about Ford watching too, something about his brother’s face filled with pride and joining in with the eager anticipation that just filled him up, made him feel ten times bigger than he’d felt in a very long time.

Not that Ford was exactly keeping his tone the same as the other townspeople. There was a distinct mirth to him, a quiver to his shoulders and a softly raised eyebrow as the others chirped and chittered at Stan’s words, soaking them up like sponges. But the stories themselves seemed to draw him in, the quake in his shoulders vanishing as he listened intently to Stan’s dramatic recreations of scenes long past. His eyes would dart around the displays when he had a chance to be near the front, a nod of approval and a quirk to his mouth that for some reason just hit Stan in waves of warm happiness.

_He likes it. He approves. He doesn’t think this is all a farce-  
Well no, he probably does think it’s a farce still, considering. But- at least it’s not an insulting farce._

Stan tried not to let the feeling overtake him though, continuing on with his tour. He was sure he could hear a familiar chuckle bubbling up every so often as they continued, whether in response to Stan or the crowd, he wasn’t sure but as long as Ford was having fun he couldn’t really bring it in himself to care.

Although, as much as he’d hate to admit it, it really was becoming difficult to keep up his act through ghostly tales and horror stories when his mouth kept wanting to twitch up into a smile. A feeling he was finding harder and harder to ignore. He kept trying to scold himself, school it back into a stern expression but there was a lighter joyful atmosphere to the entire group than usual. A possible side effect of seeing him safe and sound perhaps, as well as his own feelings that all in all were making it increasingly difficult to give out warnings about the sea and its unseen inhabitants.

All too soon it was over though, the last exhibit appearing that led into the gift shop where he left the group to do as they pleased. He managed to give his last speech with a straight face, the round of applause all he needed to at least know that in some way the tour had been a success. He gave a deep bow before ushering them further, the gruffness in his voice laced with affection he couldn’t quite hold back when all of them were friends and acquaintances he’d known for years and the brother he had lost for just as many.

The chuckling grew louder as they all fell away, Ford slipping over to stand beside him, right next to the display.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Well…” Ford glanced down at the taxidermy ‘mermaid’ between them, the very same exhibit he had seen the few times he had been able to before. He couldn’t stop his laughter as he glanced back at the group and then at Stan who also started to join in, face mischievous and pleased as he caught on to what Ford was getting at.

“I still can’t believe they think your- ahh- quaint? Taxidermy attempt there is a mermaid.” It took a moment for him to get the words out, his arms shaking against the cane that Stan had given him as he shook his head. It was all so _brilliant_. There was something about it all that even though he knew it was fake, that didn’t mean he hadn’t had a fun time listening. If anything it had made it far more relaxing. He didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to really think at all, and could just let himself get swept up in the intrigue, in the pull of a mystery with no real bite. Stan gave an indignant noise through the laughter, trying to school his face into something more irate but the look was ruined by his still shaking shoulders and the obvious glee he took in tricking people quite so easily.

“Hey, that ‘quaint’ attempt as you called it was one of my first.” Stan growled playfully, grabbing him in a headlock and running his knuckles over his head for just a moment before letting him free. He gave a sheepish smile, looking over the exhibit thoughtfully. “You’re right though, I probably should try again now I’m better at it, I could probably at least hide some of the stitches better…” The last words came out in a whisper just for Ford before he shrugged. “I don’t know though, never been able to get myself to. I was always proud of this particular display.” He chuckled, thoughts elsewhere. “How weird do you think it’d be to put Mabel’s up next to this one in the same display?”

“Well, they’re quite different subspecies, that’s for sure.” Ford bit his lip, trying not to laugh too loudly though at least Stan seemed to be doing the same. “But it’s a good one, this one. You should keep it.” He shrugged when Stan looked at him in disbelief. “Hey, for one of your first taxidermy attempts I’d say it’s damn good. I’d love to see some of your newer ones.” He couldn’t help the playful nudge, glad that he didn’t dislodge Stan’s arm from around his shoulder in the same instance. There was a lightness to the air though, Stan’s disbelief turning to a flustered embarrassment as he rubbed at the back of his head at Ford’s words.

“Oh, right, I mean, there are a few in the lighthouse that haven’t seen the light of day yet. Would you like to be my tester for new attractions?”

“I’d love to but I think the kids would be disappointed.” Ford grinned as Stan gave an exasperated sigh.

“Hmm, well if you put it that way I guess I can do a family only tour… just this once. I’m not sure if it should be free, mind, that’s quite the private event there.” Stan hummed, hand rubbing at his chin as he gave Ford a sly grin.

“I’m sure we could come up with something. Mabel would pay you in hugs.”

Stan laughed, shaking his head. “That’s because that’s a gift for her! She’s been trying to get me to give her more hugs all summer.”

“Uh-huh? So what’s this then?”

Stan looked perplexed between Ford and Ford’s own gaze directed at his hand and back again before realising that he was still giving him a one armed hug. “Oh, well this is- one of the ten hugs that Mabel’s prescribed you! Yeah, that- of course.”

“Of course.”

The pair went quiet, Ford’s arm snaking around Stan to return the gesture with a small muttered ‘Mabel prescribed the same to you’ as they watched the punters go through the last exhibit into the gift shop. There were a few bubbles of laughter whenever the pair took in the mermaid, or when Ford pointed out the mermaids purses that Stan had collected with a curious amusement, which escalated quickly as Stan pointed out in turn just how many he’d sold and how much for to tourists over the years.

It settled into a quiet hum though, the tour finishing quietly, a few goodbyes here and there that had Stan shifting back into his persona and telling them to stay safe, even whilst some scolded him for not following his own words.

It took a while for something that Ford had said earlier though to really filter through his head, his eyes finding him again as his fingers skimmed the small plaque before one of his glass cases.

“Still… you said you _still_ couldn’t believe it.”

“Stan?”

Stan stared into the middle distance as Ford turned to him from across the room. There was something in the words, something in it all that was making him wonder if maybe he hadn’t been imagining things all this time. “You’re not just here in spirit anymore.”

“What was that?” Ford frowned, tilting his head at Stan as he waited for him to elaborate.

Stan smiled, a soft genuine thing that confused Ford to no end. “Hmm? Oh, nothing, nothing, just talking to myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I am far too happy about the thought of Ford being proud of Stan’s work on the shack. And hugs. Plenty of hugs. And Ford liking alllllll the food instead of nutritional pills -o-  
> …PINES FAMILY FLUFF *THROWS CONFETTI*


	13. Sand Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Ran again cause it’s all incredible and I love it and we always need more Ran art /everywhere/.  
> Just saying.

“…I was about to ask if you were really sure about this but I think that answers my question.”

Stan stared, a bemused smile on his face at the childish glee that emanated from his brother. The young twins and Ford had pestered him for an entire evening on making the trip, his own worries clouding his judgement on the matter. But they had persisted, the combined set of puppy dog eyes finally destroying him as Ford pointed out that Stan had gone beach combing with the kids before and it was only fair that he got to as well before they left for the summer.

And he really couldn’t begrudge his brother wanting to make memories with the best people in his life, though Stan would never admit that to them of course.

Which meant it really was his own fault for promising to tell stories in the first place, which led to how Dipper had found out and ultimately wound up with giving Ford this hare-brained scheme. Ford also pointed out that he should be moving around more now that he was up and about so that he didn’t lose mobility entirely and Stan found he really couldn’t argue once all their arguments were laid out before him.

Other than the fact that he really, _really_ didn’t want to.

_Really, Ford? How on Earth can you stand the sight of the sea after all that time in it?_

But here they were, with a still mildly nervous and apprehensive Stan watching warily from the beach as his brother came shuffling closer, fully expecting him to change his mind at any moment and they’d spend the day inside instead. He’d already planned it as well, happy to play that nerdy game Ford and Dipper loved so much if it helped ease whatever this trip was about to unleash on his brother’s nerves- only to realise early on there was no need to worry so much in that regard at least.

Ford took one step onto the sand, stumbling slightly with a giddy laugh as it shifted beneath his feet. Dipper hovered around him anxiously, though Stan wasn’t sure how much help he’d actually be if Ford fell but it was the thought that counted. Ford quickly discarded his shoes before he took another step, toes curling into the sand for a few seconds, eyes quick and inquisitive as if he was taking all the information in as he scrunched the material around, ignoring the distasteful look Stan was giving the gritty mess beneath them. Before Stan could open his mouth to ask what he was doing, Ford took a few more shuffling steps and sat himself down, laying back on the already sun warmed sand and letting it filter between his fingers. He took a deep breath, seemingly taking in the sea breeze.

The notion left Stan befuddled and lost.

_You can’t honestly tell me you still like that god awful brine smell._

As lost as he felt though, he couldn’t stop the bemused smile curling on his lips, a quirk to his eyebrow as the amused words escaped him.

“What was that?”

He huffed, rolling his eyes as his brother kept his closed, basking in the warmth. “I said I was about to ask-”

“Oh! Are we making sand angels?”

Stan’s reiteration had barely made it out of his mouth when Mabel interrupted him. She shrieked a high pitch happy noise and joined her Grunkle, the pair of them suddenly tasking themselves with making the biggest sand angels that they could, even as sand covered them entirely in the process.

Dipper stood beside Stan, his face thoughtful as he watched, not holding the same disgruntled edge as Stan who was trying to keep out of the spray of sand the two were unleashing. Dipper did however slip his small journal back into the bag they’d brought with them to keep it safe from their antics.

Ford sat up to admire his handiwork, beaming as Mabel joined him and gave a nod of approval before starting to add small details in the sand to his impression.

“What do you think of seaweed hair, Grunkle Ford?”

“Perfect! I think we should go searching for some later.”

“Hmm, how about we find some coloured glass for the glasses?”

“I like your thinking, bro!”

Stan shook his head at the spark in Ford’s eyes, fingers already moving as if he was trying to imagine what seaweed felt like again. Dipper had scurried off from his side to search for some items as they grabbed what was close enough as a starting block. Stan kept an eye on him, out of his peripheral, unable to stop the age old habit as the waves ebbed and flowed across the shore, the small trickle of doubt settling back in as a sudden chill breeze slipped across the beach.

No one else seemed to notice.

He shook the feeling, tugging his jacket around himself further to ward the cold away as he kicked a couple of stones towards them, rounded by the waves and perfect for something he was sure. He made sure to school his face into a look of utmost ignorance when Ford raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I was just wondering if you two were going to get up any time soon for beach combing or not.”

Ford held the sea smoothed pebble in his hands as he looked torn between Mabel’s art and why they had come to the beach in the first place. He rolled the rock around, slipping it into his pocket without a thought to continue playing with later as he shrugged playfully, a toothy grin in place that Stan hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Well, we’re here for the day, aren’t we? Lots of time to do lots of activities.”

“Have I been duped?” Stan put a hand to his heart as his family grinned up at him.

“Maybe. It took long enough to get you to agree to beach combing but we thought once we were down here…”

Stan blinked at Dipper’s honesty as he walked back passed him, his shirt filled with small trinkets for the other two that he dropped in a pile beside them. He wasn’t entirely sure who gave the happiest squeak as Mabel gathered up a few items to place instantly and Ford sat toying with the others, holding them up to the light to watch them gleam as his thumb ran across them.

“Hmph. Well, I guess this is alright.” Stan grumbled out, ignoring the knowing grins from his family. He grabbed the bag that Dipper had dropped, throwing out the blanket they had brought with them and sitting down on it with a groan.

No one mentioned that Stan sat directly between them and the sea, his back turned to it in an odd act of defiance.

“Stan, it’s just sand.”

Stan grimaced but otherwise snubbed the comment. “Just make sure you don’t tire yourself out old man.” He held up a hand as Ford opened his mouth. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

“But-”

“No.”

“But I have slept-”

“It doesn’t work like that! I thought you were smart!” Stan huffed as Ford let out a bubble of laughter, the frustration at his sibling a mix of exasperation and endearing as he realised that Ford really did like irritating him.

It left an oddly warm feeling in his chest, the endless sibling banter falling over them again with an ease he’d never expected to get back.

He tried to shrug the thought away, stay at least slightly irritated at his wayward twin but it had melted far too quickly in the sun along with the uneasiness. He slipped his jacket off as he suddenly felt the heat, slipping out his magazine for a quiet moment in the sun with the sounds of his family around him. Mabel joined him after a while, getting a gruff grumble as she dusted him with sand before starting to build a sandcastle beside him, chattering away about another exhibit they had planned to create between them. It didn’t take long for him to realise that her previous job on the sand angels had been discarded because Dipper and Ford were now lost in a fast paced discussion about the creatures the young twins had seen in their stay.

“You saw a Dobhar-chú? It took me months to catch sight of one!”

“Is that what these are called? They make a really weird noise and wake me up quite a lot at night, that’s the only reason I’ve seen them a few times.” Dipper practically vibrated where he sat, slipping out a stack of photos from the back of the book to flick through them. “I couldn’t find anything close to them in the library, so I snapped some pictures to have a look through when I got home- here! This is the one.”

“This is incredible!”

Stan gave a soft chuckle, trying not to show how proud he felt as Dipper suddenly looked sheepish and honoured to hear the words, to watch as Ford went through his photos in awe. He always had thought Dipper and his brother would get along like a house on fire and he hadn’t been wrong. It had been obvious from the start, but most of Dipper’s questions had been about the overlying mystery- getting to know his new family member and figure out the lighthouse which had been aggravating him for weeks. Now, with the reminders of all the other anomalies that inhabited the place around them, it seemed only natural for them to realise that there was a lot more research to be discussed, their eyes bright with a shared passion for the unexplained.

_Is that a trait that runs in families? Is it like twins?_

“Two peas in a pod, am I right?” Mabel flopped on to him, giving him a soft mock disappointed sigh.

Stan nodded his head sombrely as Dipper gave a small chirp of excitement as Ford scrubbed at his chin and started to tell him about creatures he had met. His pen seemingly materialised from nowhere as he started to scribble everything down amongst the notes he already had, adding his own thoughts and knowledge to the conversation whenever Ford shrugged. The pair of them filled in the blanks in the others knowledge until their words became a fast babble of excitement the other two could only smile amusedly at. “What ever shall we do with them?”

“I don’t think we can do anything about it. But I guess that’s OK.” Mabel gave another deep sigh, the smile on her face more than enough evidence that it wasn’t meant at all.

“Yeah, the nerds are happy, after all…. Even if they are nerds.”

The pair of them looked at one another, a long suffering expression shared between them that had them both bursting out into peals of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

Stan looked up to find Dipper and Ford had paused their conversation long enough to look at them in confusion. Stan’s grin widened, his laughter still overflowing as Dipper subconsciously clicked his pen, eager to get back to note taking. “Oh, nothing, Sixer, nothing. Just listening to your tall fish tales.”

“Tall- _Stan_.” Ford sat back affronted, his face slightly aghast. “They’re not stories, you know that!”

Stan shrugged, eyes flickering to Mabel, who shared his mischief. “I dunno, some of the things you guys talk about- I mean you wrote about poisonous rodents that live in the rock pools, Poindexter.”

“Lavellans are a legitimate cryptid, Stan, and believe me their venom is nothing to be trifled with-”

“If you say so.” Stan’s jaw began to ache from the childish smirk, his whole body shaking with mirth as his brother spluttered, a strangled noise escaping him.

“Says the man that’s been using my research for his- his-” Ford continued to stutter, hand gesturing to the Shack in the distance.

Stan raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow, good insult there. Ten out of ten for that one, nerd.”

“Grunkle Stan, you can’t seriously say you don’t believe in these things after this summer!”

Stan shrugged. “I dunno, just some of the creatures are just _too_ much, you know? I mean, I’m pretty sure I found some old articles once about dinosaurs still existing- I mean, really? Where have they been all this time?”

Ford growled, teeth gritting as he pointed at Stan. “I’ll have you know, Plesiosaurs have been spotted around the world and are widely held to be the origins of many a sea serpent myth.”

“ _Widely held_?!” Stan’s laughter boomed out again in a cascade. “I think that’s the tallest fish tale yet!” He rubbed at his eyes, still staring at Ford as he seemed to physically fizzle. “Wow, your face, bro. Anyone would think you actually believed me.”

Ford deflated, irritation still visible as he sat up straight. “You mean-”

“What? You believed a con man? That’s your own fault.” Stan gave him back a toothy grin in kind, similar to the one Ford had displayed earlier. “And your own brother no less, that’s a recipe for disaster, that is.”

“Believing my brother is a recipe for disaster, is it?” Ford shook his head, a soft disbelieving smile spreading across his face.

“When there’s an opportunity to tease? _Of course_.”

“Grunkle Stan?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Stan didn’t take his eyes off of Ford as he answered, still giving him a cheeky look to contrast his exasperation.

“Can I make a ‘Tall fish tales told here’ sign for the Shack?”

Stan and Ford both blinked, turning to her as Dipper bit on his knuckle to stop from laughing at their twin shocked expressions. Stan narrowed his eyes, scrutinising her in playful warning. “That depends, whose tales are you calling tall?”

Mabel didn’t even blink as she looked between them all and then back to Stan. “Well, all of yours, obviously. Have you guys heard some of your stories? They need some polishing to be believable.”

“Wait, Mabel, you saw the creatures I saw too!”

“Yeah but they don’t sound believable once they’re in that book of yours, Dip-Dop, even to me! Oh- maybe I can help with that!”

Stan stared at her bright gleaming expression for a few short moments before turning back to Ford who seemed conflicted between slack jawed surprise at her quick answer and hysterical giggles at her encompassing logic. Stan caught his eye, gesturing in defeat. “I think Mabel won that round.”

Ford could only really concede defeat as well, nodding to him in a truce.

Dipper, however, continued to splutter beside him, his journal held tightly to his chest as Mabel offered her expertise, hand out for the book to go through it with him. While he adamantly shook his head, looking about ready to bolt, Stan thought it best to help the kid before things got out of hand, even by sibling standards. “Hey, I thought we were meant to be beach combing anyhow, not telling ghost stories. We’ve done enough of that over the last few days, don’t you think, Casper?”

There was a sudden silence as all eyes went to an oblivious Ford.

“…Who’s Casper?”

“You.”

“Me? Why-”

“Never mind, doesn’t matter, does it, kids?” Stan grinned as the pair continued to giggle at Ford’s nonplussed expression, all thoughts of the journal forgotten. “Anyway, I thought I heard talk of looking for seashells to complete those sand angels of yours?”

“Oh yes, quite! I got wrapped up in Dipper’s research…” Ford connected the dots later than Stan did, glancing between Dipper, the journal and Mabel’s still outstretched hands. “Ahh, should we go look for some, Mabel? Just you and me. I’m sure Dipper and Stan have some beach combing of their own to do.”

Stan waved them off, looking over at Dipper with a grin. “What do you think? Wanna see what fun things we can find this time?”

Dipper glanced warily at Mabel out of the corner of his eye as her own eyes sparkled, her entire being vibrating as her earlier task lay forgotten. “That sounds great. Hey Mabel, have you seen any mermaids purses?”

“No, what do they look like?”

Stan snorted, Mabel’s interests now completely diverted as his face twisted into exaggerated disappointment when really a smile was trying to stretch across his lips in pride at Dipper’s quick thinking. “Well, they’re only part of the exhibit in the Shack!”

“…Oops.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find you some while you’re grabbing shells, keep some interesting ones for me, will you? You never know what a gullible tourist will believe.” Stan winked at her, ignoring the eye roll from his brother just behind her as he stood up.

Mabel gasped, tugging at his arm as she went. “If I come up with a good story will you tell it at the Shack before we leave?”

“ _If_ it’s a good one… I don’t see why not. If you can make me money you know I’ll love you forever.”

Mabel slapped his shoulder jokingly, shaking her head at him flippantly. “You’ve got to love me forever anyway! You’re my Grunkle!” Before Stan could respond, she turned her back on him, grabbing hold of Ford’s sleeve and tugged him none too gently across the beach. “Come on, Grunkle Ford! We’ve got to find the best shells and come up with an amazing story.”

“Alright, where do we start…”

Stan watched quietly as the pair made their way across the sand, their voices trailing away into laughter and soft shrieks as they traversed and inspected the rock pools further down. The breeze brought their voices back to them in small bursts of happiness and each one made Stan’s tense muscles relax further.

Though it still couldn’t get rid of them entirely. His eyes hawkishly watched them and the tides, as if he hadn’t triple checked when the tide would be coming in only moments before they left that morning. Nor did his reminders of the copious checks he’d done the night before, when he’d finally agreed to the outing, push the last dregs away.

None of that knowledge helped the slimy anxious feeling in his stomach, the horrible looming worry that the sea wasn’t done with them yet.

That if he looked away for just a second, if he so much as blinked, something would go terribly wrong all over again.

A soft chuckle sounded on a cold sea draught, a frown marring his features as he continued to watch after his family.

That hadn’t sounded like the laughs he’d been hearing before, it didn’t hold any of the warmth that had been bubbling over since they had arrived.

“Grunkle Stan?”

Stan blinked, eyes locking on to Dipper who gave him a knowing smile. He shook himself, returning the gesture in kind though slightly more sheepishly at being caught.

_Must be my imagination. That’s all. Damn wind._

“You should go off with them, you know, if you want to go exploring like you usually do.”

“You don’t want to go beach combing and keep an eye on them?”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the perceptive gleam to Dipper’s eyes, though he also saw a bit of himself in the gaze as his eyes darted quickly to Mabel’s back as if worried she’d go out of his sight. “I like the way you think, kid.” Stan stood with a groan, eyes skimming their possessions before shrugging at the empty beach and deciding that they could leave them there without a worry. “But then again, I’m more convinced your sister can look after Ford than the other way around.”

Dipper scurried to keep up as Stan took long strides across the beach, eyes down and skirting the pebbles in quick succession. “Well, she did manage to make friends with a kelpie so I’d say that’s fairly accurate.”

Stan paused in his observations, face snapping to Dipper’s in all seriousness. “A kelpie? Your sister touched a kelpie?”

“I mean, I think so?” Dipper’s face turned chagrined at Stan’s stern, unyielding expression. “I did warn her! And she didn’t touch it for the most part, she just followed the cool horse around for the afternoon and chattered away to it. I think she even came back to the Shack for sugar lumps-”

“Hey! I wondered where all my sugar went!” Stan blurted out before shaking his head and gesturing for him to continue. “Not the point. Kelpie. Your sister. What happened?”

“Well, after a full day of us keeping an eye on it, she patted it as a goodbye. I freaked out but- nothing happened, the horse nudged her hand and we came home.”

“…Are you sure it was a kelpie?”

“We watched it walk into the sea and not come back out.”

“Oh.” Stan looked out at the ocean, glaring distastefully at it before his eyes caught back on his twin and Mabel again. “And I didn’t get told about this when you got back because?”

“…Because we thought we might get a lecture about how dangerous the sea is?”

Stan sighed, rubbing underneath his glasses as Dipper looked pitifully up at him, guilt evident in his expression. “You two are going to be the death of me. I love you to pieces but this entire family just doesn’t seem to know when to quit- and don’t say it, I know I’m exactly the same.”

“We just didn’t want to worry you. Or I didn’t- it scared me enough as it was.” Dipper’s voice grew quiet at the end and Stan couldn’t blame him.

Fear was bubbling up around his heart, making his chest tight at the mere thought of Mabel close to a kelpie, actually seeing her in the act might have given him a heart attack…

He gave a long suffering sigh, his thoughts on a different night, one they hadn’t spoken about since because he’d been too upset to even think about it in great detail. “Is that the same reason you won’t tell me about that day you came in later than you should have from the beach?”

“What-?” Dippers voice cracked in the middle of the word, his head shaking vehemently. “No! Nothing happened, I just… forgot.”

“Dipper, you don’t just forget things like that. I know you.” Stan sighed when Dipper’s face shut down, his eyes dropping to the floor as his feet kicked, hoping to find something of interest to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “Alright, I won’t pry. I’ve kept enough secrets in my time, I can’t begrudge you the same. All I can say is that I’m not sure keeping all those secrets did me any good.”

“Really?” Dipper glanced back up at him, intrigued. They’d been told many stories from the last thirty years and as much as it had hurt to know he had been lied to, that he had been right the entire time that something was up with the lighthouse, he had started to realise what Stan had gone through, why he had chosen that life for himself. “It makes sense. Who would have believed you?”

Stan shrugged. “That’s what I thought. But, you saw the way this town came together that night, and you know, not one of them has questioned how I went out alone in a storm and came back with my twin brother.”

Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed as he stopped in his tracks. “Huh… I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I hadn’t either. But either way, whether it was a good thing or a bad one in the long run- it definitely didn’t do me any good. Keeping it all bottled up, having no one to turn to…” Stan’s face soured for a moment, his eyes locked on to the middle distance as his mind traipsed over dark nights and darker thoughts before shaking the gloom from his features to give Dipper a reassuring clap to the back. “Besides, I’m trying to tell you- I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t think anyone would believe or help me. _You_ on the other hand have three people who will always be willing to help and always believe you.”

“So do you.”

Stan grinned at the push back, a warm glow fizzling through the darker thoughts that had begun to roam again. “I guess I do- but I’m not the one still keeping secrets, am I?” He pulled Dipper’s cap down so it covered his eyes, getting a squawk of protest as Dipper shuffled it back into place.

“Alright, alright, I’ll… think about it.” Dipper muttered, voice low and filled with hesitation.

“Then I won’t push.” Stan knew a lost cause when he saw one, and pushing further would just push the boy away, his shoulders already high around his ears. He glanced around for something to take their minds off the conversation until a small spark of realisation hit him. “Wait, does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Dipper’s head shot back up, eyes wide in confusion. “Forgiven?”

“Yeah, for… keeping you two in the dark.” Stan winced, rubbing the back of his head as the words came out all wrong. “I mean, I never meant to. I just didn’t expect to have Ford 2.0 here catching on to everything before I was ready. You really are too perceptive for your own good.” He winked playfully at Dipper who puffed up prideful at the compliment. But the feeling soon deflated as Stan continued, his smile vanishing quickly. “I can understand if you’re upset, if you’re angry that I kept so much a secret-”

“No!” Dipper stopped him, hand catching his trouser leg as he continued to move forward, his face almost as distraught as the night of the storm though Stan didn’t know why. “I-I mean I was, I knew something was going on you weren’t telling us but-” His face scrunched up as if he couldn’t get the words out properly and Stan almost laughed as the pair of them fumbled with how to make sense of their thoughts. “I… I really thought you were the one turning on the light, and you’d told us not to trust what turned on the light… and I just didn’t understand. But then we saw you out on the sea trying to save Grunkle Ford and-” Dipper shuddered, and Stan knelt down beside him, gripping his shoulder with one hand.

This wasn’t what he’d expected when he brought this up, they were meant to be having a fun day out, not unloading all of these difficult conversations.

Though when Dipper looked at him again, it felt like maybe this had been a long time coming and was desperately needed.

“I thought- there was a moment when I didn’t trust you…” Dipper whispered, but, though it hurt, Stan could do nothing more than give an understanding sad smile. That much was to be expected. “But then you were out in the storm saving someone and all I could think about was making sure the light stayed on so you could get home.” He shook again, his face etched with guilt and Stan wanted to bundle him up but when he tried to, Dipper shook his head, eyes firm and fixed to Stan’s. “You really scared us that night.”

Stan cringed, his eyes and his hand dropping, as a wave of shame washed over him.

“And… we really scared you and I didn’t think I’d ever get to say sorry for that.”

Stan’s head snapped back up with a painful click as he heard a soft sniffle.

“And I really, _really_ am sorry.” Dipper scrubbed at his eyes, his voice wobbling out as his lip trembled.

“Hey, it’s OK. I’m not- I’m not mad, I didn’t bring it up because I was mad.” Stan shushed him reassuringly, his hand rubbing the boy’s back as he trembled. “Hey now, everything’s OK now, isn’t it?”

Dipper gave a shaky nod, still scrubbing at his eyes. “I k-know. I just- I was upset but that didn’t matter against getting you home. And then you told us everything anyway s-so…”

Stan gave a gruff laugh, patting Dipper’s head. “And all this time I thought you were still angry at me.”

Dipper shook his head, scurrying forward and burrowing in quick as he continued his words. “I thought you might be upset at me for not trusting you, or for going in the lighthouse, or still angry cause of-”

Stan huffed, cutting his rambling panic short. “We both thought the other might still be disappointed so we didn’t talk about it… that just sums us up, doesn’t it?”

Dipper gave a warbling choked out laugh. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

They stayed like that for a few more moments before Dipper spoke again, his voice hesitant and holding a small quiver of fear.

“Also… I- I couldn’t be angry at you. ‘Cause I started thinking about if it was Mabel out there and…”

Dipper shook again, unable to continue and Stan held him tighter, his eyes hardening. “That’s never going to happen. Nothing’s ever going to happen to you or your sister while I’m around, you hear me?”

Dipper nodded into his shoulder. “Y-yeah.”

The rest of his sentence still refused to stop looming even then, swirling in the boy’s skull but Stan got the message quickly and his arms tightened protectively again as his eyes found the other two still happily wandering. Dipper got why he had lied, got why he had kept so many secrets but also anything happening to either of his niblings didn’t bear thinking about.

The thought of Mabel near a kelpie alone was turning his stomach, let alone everything else he knew was lying in wait out there.

“Nothing, and I mean nothing will ever hurt either of you.” Stan pulled away to give Dipper a confident look as he pointed at himself. “Anything that gives you trouble has to go through me first, you got it?”

Dipper looked towards the sea instead of him for a moment, brain seemingly warring with itself behind his eyes. Stan waited expectantly, hopeful the boy might spill whatever happened that night but instead he looked at him dolefully.

“I’m still sorry for forgetting. You can’t actually punch the sea itself.”

“I can try.”

Dipper gave a surprised hiccup of laughter at the words, Stan beaming in pride as the smile stayed firmly in place this time instead of sinking into shame and fear. He didn’t want Dipper worrying too much about ‘what if’s and ‘what could have been’s. It was much better to focus on the present and try not to make the same mistakes again in his opinion.

That and though he wouldn’t admit it, seeing Dipper look so distraught was really eating away at him and making him wonder whether he had been a tad too hard on them when he’d been scared for their safety.

“Anyway, no more apologising. It happened, you learnt your lesson, now let’s have a good time, yeah?”

Before they could continue, the breeze blew forth another stream of excitable giggles and conversation from their siblings, a completely different feel to their own heartfelt conversation swimming over them like the tide and reminding them that everyone was safe and sound. That the world was still turning exactly how it should be, and everything was back to normal, just with an extra addition to the family who was very much welcome.

“Grunkle Ford! You are terrible at sneaking for crabs!”

“…Sneaking for crabs?”

“What? Don’t give me that look, it makes perfect sense! Now are we catching this crab I have a date or not?”

Stan and Dipper looked at one another, both trying to imagine just what Ford’s expression was at that moment, Dipper bit his lip as Stan grinned.

“How long before Mabel gives them names and tries to get Ford to marry them, you think?”

And with that Dipper couldn’t contain the giggles that had been threatening to overflow as he imagined the overwhelming tide that was Mabel drag their newfound Grunkle into her latest scheme. “That- that depends on how good Grunkle Ford is at ‘sneaking’ for them.”

And with that Stan followed suit, one hand clapping Dipper on the back as they both watched Ford scurry around a rock pool in the distance, obviously following Mabel’s advice that they could no longer hear as the wind dropped again.

They continued to watch them, both still giggling away until Stan added to their mirth. “How on earth are they both still in sweaters?”

Their laughter must have carried though as Mabel looked up and waved at them, knee deep in the rock pool herself.

Stan took a deep breath in, standing up once more. “We should probably actually do some beach combing so that they don’t ask what we were doing back here, what do you think?” He gave Dipper a playful nudge as the boy gave him a serious look and nodded quickly, obviously wanting to keep that little outburst of emotion between them.

It didn’t take long for them to get back into the spirit of things, Stan knowing that things were right with the world when the journal slipped back into Dipper’s hands as they walked. It also helped that he was being more honest than he had been in years, only telling the stories he knew to be true because he’d experienced them himself over the years. Sure he might embellish them a little bit, or hide some truths that were best kept that way from the kids, but in essence the stories at least were not just the things that he had thrown together for tours and gullible tourists who would believe anything he said.

He might have tried once or twice, but Dipper was getting increasingly good at spotting his lies. Still, didn’t harm to test the waters even now as the boy gave him increasingly sceptical looks and stopped writing whenever he gave into the impulse to lie through his teeth.

Unfortunately, other than a few trinkets though, there wasn’t much to be found in the way of interesting items unlike their last attempt at beach combing. They’d almost caught up to their twins as well, and without anything to show for it, Stan was hard pressed to think up what they could say when they finally got to them.

As he thought, his eyes caught on a small alcove in the cliff face, his face turning thoughtful as his legs went towards it. “Hey Dipper, what about in there? Think we’ll find anything in-”

A small hand grabbed the back of his shirt.

Stan froze, turning around to the small boy who was looking straight ahead. “Dipper?”

“L-let’s not.”

“Kid?” His voice came out as a slight warning, a gruff worried question as the boy continued to stare at the cave as if there was something there Stan couldn’t quite see.

“Just, can we not? Please?” Dipper finally tore his eyes away from the cave, his eyes pleading as they locked on to Stan’s.

“Sure.” Stan gulped, unnerved as he turned back towards the other pair, Dipper still holding on to his shirt as his gaze shifted back to the caves. Stan waited for an explanation, only getting a sigh of relief when they were a distance away from the offending area. “That’s unlike you. Where’s your sense of adventure gone, kid?”

“…It realised some things are better left alone.” Dipper whispered, though Stan caught it on the breeze, his steps slowing to a halt.

“Alright, I’m curious now, what’s in there?”

Dipper gave a pained noise at the questioning, tugging Stan towards the others now. “I don’t know- but it doesn’t like you.”

“Doesn’t like- well there’s a lot that don’t like me, human or otherwise so that doesn’t really help.” Stan gave him an amused look, ignoring the frustration marring the boy’s face. “Come on, let’s go pay it a visit then, I’m sure I can get it to like me if I flash the old charm-”

“ _No_. Grunkle Stan, _please_.” Dipper gulped, pushing at his legs. “It really didn’t- it wanted to hurt the lighthouse keeper and now that makes a lot more sense, OK? Cause it shied away when the light came on but at the time I wasn’t really paying attention to that and-” His voice choked up, the memory still too close for comfort. “Please, can we just go?”

“Alright, I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. Should we go catch up with-”

Before he could get the words out, Dipper blurted out an answer he hadn’t been expecting.

“I met it the night we were late in.”

The amusement on Stan’s face vanished, confusion and concern vying for top spot as he looked back at the caves. “Oh? Kid, if you got stuck out here because of a creature, you should have told me… no?” Dipper’s shaking head stopped him in his tracks.

“No.” Dipper twisted the journal in his hands as he took a few more steps away from the cave, and towards Stan, trying his best to keep his back to it. “I… it had answers, or it said it had answers to my questions about the lighthouse…”

Stan’s stomach twisted, thoughts of the myriad of creatures that lured people to their fates coming to mind, as well as the looming presence he was still trying to deny existed even with his brother standing before him being proof of it’s existence. “Ok, I’m still lost.”

“It was still my fault that I was late.” Dipper muttered out dejectedly, fingers tight around the book. “I got caught up in the questions and it was making me doubt everything and- if Mabel hadn’t called I wouldn’t have noticed how late it had gotten. But then it… it scared me. I realised it had wanted me to not notice the time and that it didn’t want me to leave… I didn’t think it was going to let me either.”

“I see.” Stan’s gaze hardened, the cave now being memorised as he scanned the surroundings, mapping it out and taking in the details. He turned back to Dipper, with a soft smile. “Thanks for being honest, that makes a lot more sense than you just forgetting.” Stan hid his actual feelings as Dipper seemed to deflate with relief, his hands still tugging Stan away from the cave as Stan hazarded another vicious look back.

_I’ll talk to Ford about that later, whatever that is can’t stay there. Maybe Ford will know what it is._

“You two find anything interesting?”

Stan looked up from his musings, not having realised he’d been dragged so close to the other two. He shook the thoughts away, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking Ford about the creature now. That could wait, maybe until the kids had left so there was no risk of a repeat performance of whatever had Dipper so spooked. A small hand clutched at his, as if troubled that he’d share their conversation as well. Stan squeezed the hand back, a sign of assurance as he gave Ford a grin. “Absolutely nothing, you’d think there’d be something of interest that washed up after that storm and yet…” He shrugged, gesturing noncommittally to try and get the conversation away from them.

“I mean we did get Grunkle Ford from it so I guess we shouldn’t ask for more.”

Stan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as Dipper interjected, obviously also hoping to drag the conversation into safe waters. “True, nothing more interesting than that, all things considered. Definitely better than an oddly shaped piece of driftwood but I can hardly use him as an exhibit…” He gave his brother an appraising look, mind whirring playfully. “Although…”

“No. Just no.”

Stan’s grin grew wide and sharp. “I’ll think of something, but for now – what did you two find?”

“Well, I found a crab but Grunkle Ford still can’t find a suitable friend for her.”

“I’m sure the crab doesn’t need help in that respect, Mabel…”

Stan bit his lip, trying not to laugh at the nonplussed expression marring Ford’s face, utterly baffled by his Great nibling’s antics. She started to babble at him about how wrong he was, spinning a tale for the crab in her hands with enough charm and drama to fill Stan with an odd sense of pride. He shuffled around them all, glancing around the large rock pool they were inhabiting in the hopes of getting that excited happy expression back on Mabel’s face and not even realising himself this time that he was yet again positioning himself between his family and the sea. A steadfast barrier against the ice cold dangers it held even on a warm and sunny day when nightmares seemed all the more insignificant.

But the warmth was slowly breaking through, each happy cry and gleeful giggle as Dipper joined Ford and Mabel in the rock pool another small weight lifted from his aging shoulders.

That was until Mabel seemed no longer able to ignore his behaviour.

Once it became clear that no one was going to help her in her quest for the poor crab she took it upon herself to prove a point to her stubborn Grunkle.

Stan, not really paying attention as he tried to help Ford out of the small pool without letting him slip on the wet rocks, or dragging his unwilling brother in, only just managed to register as she slipped past him towards the waves. “Now, sweetie-”

Before he could say much more she was chasing the waves, small fleeting footsteps forward and swiftly running away from the water again as if tempting it. He watched sharply, eyes following the tide until it started to sink in that as much as he feared the open water, the small foam brushing up on shore couldn’t really do her any damage.

Water was just water, the sea itself was not the problem.

Little by little as Mabel toyed with it, as if she knew that she was dealing with a dangerous creature but one that she showed no fear to, Stan couldn’t help but relax further and further. The fizzling, snarling fear that had plagued him since the kids had arrived, the fear that had grown exponentially once his brother was back that the sea would try to take him once more, dampened to a mere husk of what it had been as he watched her curiously run rings around something he had skirted for more days than he could count.

The sea finally caught her in a lapse of judgement and he held his breath, the spark of fear still there as she squawked as it lapped across her feet- but then she was running back towards him though still closer to the waves than he would like, her teeth chattering away as she frowned heavily.

“Cold, cold, cold- how is that so much colder than the pool?!”

And with that, the husk turned to dust.

_What’s to fear? It’s just water.  
Nothing out there’s going to hurt them while you’re around._

Dipper huffed out a laugh, shaking his head from his position beside Stan, where he seemed to be the most relaxed that day though Stan didn’t point it out as Ford started to dry off a little ways away. “Well, you did get drier in the sun, and the sun probably heated the rock pools a bit.”

Mabel huffed, crossing her arms with a pout. “It should still be warme- ahh!” The sea caught her again when she wasn’t looking, flowing up over her ankles as she stood in reach. Dipper’s small chuckles became more pronounced as she glared down at the sea as if it had done that on purpose before narrowing her eyes, irritated at her brother. “What? Don’t think it’s that cold? How about- now!”

Unfortunately her aim was off, the kick of spray aiming for her brother only skimming him.

And mostly covering Stan instead.

He blinked, the cold water covering his glasses in a spatter of salty rain that had Ford snorting from somewhere to his right. Dipper seemed to have the foresight to shuffle away from him at that moment as Stan took off his glasses and rubbed at his face without a word before replacing them. He eyed Mabel from the shore as she grinned at him sheepishly. “You’re right, that is cold… Wanna know what’s worse though?”

“Worse? - No, Grunkle Stan! _Grunkle Stan!_ ” Mabel, in a moment of confusion, couldn’t jump out of the way in time as Stan picked her up, her eyes going wide suddenly as she realised just what Stan was planning. She tried to scrabble at his arms as he stood in the waves, the water running up to his shins as he turned to the other two with a small bow. Taking a leaf out of her book, he decided to trust her judgement that it really was time to keep his head above water and not let the fear drown him any longer.

And promptly dropped her with a loud splash into the waiting cold tide.

She came up spluttering, long hair bedraggled across her face as she shook her head. “Grunkle Stan!” She glared reproachfully up at him, with a disappointed whine before giving him a mischievous look. He didn’t have more than a chance to frown at her suspiciously before she was jumping forward and launching at his knees, making him stumble.

Stan wobbled backwards, arms windmilling in a moment of panic before he abruptly found himself sitting, freezing and half drenched, with a cheekily grinning Mabel still attached to his knees that had managed to stay above water. He’d managed to catch himself before he was fully submerged, hands in the sand behind him but still it was more than he had ever meant to be in the water.

A small voice cheered along with Mabel’s satisfied smile, but the more pressing thought process was narrowing his eyes at her in challenge.

“Oh, it is _war_. Come here, you!” Another high pitch squeak escaped Mabel as she jumped away from him at the sudden declaration.

A chase ensued, in and out of the froth and foam as the pair tried to stay above water. The heat of the day dried them as they went, warm enough that for the moment they weren’t shivering, other than when they managed to catch the other out and paddled around one another in waves that lapped higher than expected on occasion.

One particularly large wave managed to barrel Mabel into Stan, both of them fumbling around with a cry that ended in a tangled mess, both of them soaked through again in the blink of an eye.

A booming laugh echoed around them, the pair pausing in their struggle of a competition to glance over at Ford who was sitting down and using Dipper as a support as he gave full body laughs at what they could only assume were their antics.

Stan gave Mabel a sour look, eyes gleaming with playful intent. “I think our siblings are far too dry, what do you think?”

“Agreed.” Mabel darted away from him without another word, arms outstretched to encase her brother who quickly saw what she was doing and darted away.

“Mabel! No, Mab- Mabel!”

Stan followed suit but a lot slower, groaning as he finally noted that he probably shouldn’t have pushed himself quite so hard running around after her. He wasn’t as sprightly as he once was, and definitely never able to keep up with her boundless energy. He stood above Ford as he continued to laugh, propping himself up on one arm as Dipper vanished from his side.

“S-stop it! You’re dripping all over me!” He managed to get out, his hands going up to cover him as he continued to let out his giggles.

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll move if you tell me what you’re laughing at.” Stan leaned over him with a grin.

The booming laughter came again as Ford beamed up at him, loud chuffs of happy energy clattering out of him like thunder that was contagious as Stan helped him to his feet.

“Watching you two- the beach- I-” Ford gripped his hand tightly as he was helped up, his other arm gesturing widely. “Oh. I don’t know, just everything I suppose.” A small frown marred his features as he tried to word it, this sudden happy energy that had been there this whole time but now threatened to overwhelm him in the best possible way.

Stan watched, waiting quietly until Ford’s face softened, his shoulders slumping in a tranquil moment as his eyes gleamed.

“I’m home. It just hit me, I’m really home- this is what home feels like, isn’t it?”

And swiftly, the words sunk in to Stan as well, a fire igniting in his chest that overwhelmed him too as if grabbing Ford’s hand had transmitted the emotion straight through his nerves. The feeling he had had the morning after, that undeniable ecstatic heady rush that he had succeeded engulfed him once more, but this time there were no more tears, his brother’s solid weight beside him, his hand warm in his just making him join in the laughter until the pair were holding one another up. Their laughter bounced and reverberated around the rocks around them in such a cacophony of sound that Stan wondered whether the creature down at the bottom of the abyss could hear them from here.

And that thought just increased his mirth. He’d won, he’d beaten the odds, his brother next to him was proof of that. “You’re home, you’re home!”

The fizzling energy grew too much though, that laughter wasn’t enough and Stan, playful as ever couldn’t help but bundle his brother up, picking him up with a small grunt and swinging him around with unabashed enthusiasm. Ford didn’t seem to hold the same sentiment though, flailing in surprise and stumbling over his words that only made Stan bark out another laugh as he ignored his efforts to get away.

“Stan! Your back!”

“Who _cares_? You’re home, Sixer, _home_!”

“Put me down, Stan! Right now, before you hurt yourself.”

Stan paused in his spins, grinning up at his brother, his childish and challenging demeanour the perfect contrast for Ford’s stern and disapproving expression. “Make me.”

Ford’s face shifted from worried irritation to indulgently playful in the blink of an eye, struggling with all his might to win the impromptu competition Stan had sparked. He did succeed in making Stan stumble and drop him down but he couldn’t quite get out of his grasp, a wrestling match ensuing that he was vaguely aware Mabel and Dipper were cheering for in the background.

It didn’t take long for him to tire though, even though he knew Stan was actually going easy on him, as if in amongst the play fighting he had remembered all the fussing he’d been doing in recent weeks.

Ford felt a fizzle of affectionate warmth at the realisation but also a much stronger resolution to make sure that next time he could catch Stan off guard. He couldn’t have him worrying over him forever. That just wouldn’t do.

For now though, he conceded defeat, slumping and raising his hands up. “Alright, alright, I yield. Can we stop now?”

Stan grinned, standing up and helping Ford back up with him, childish excitement still visible through a layer of tiredness, apparently running after Mabel as well as that had actually tired him out more than Ford had previously thought. “I win!” Stan turned towards the kids, still paddling in the sea, eyes shining brightly as Ford winced at the burst of noise. “You hear that?! I win!”

“Technically I did get you to put me down…” Ford scrubbed at his ear, smiling good-humouredly as he waited for the bickering response to cut him off.

“I did it.” The words were softly spoken. Ford wouldn’t have caught them if he hadn’t trailed off hoping for Stan to bite. He tilted his head, turning just slightly as if worried the words weren’t meant for him and found that Stan was not looking at the kids as he had assumed. Instead his eyes were cast and unfocused across the waves, a small satisfied smile sliding across his face.

“I did it, I won. You hear that, whatever you are, I- _we_ beat you.” Stan jolted out of his mutterings as an arm fell around his shoulders. He quickly amended his words, his smile stretching until he was grinning from ear to ear as he turned to Ford. “We did it, Sixer. We really did it, didn’t we?”

“No.”

Stan’s smile dropped instantly, his body tensing as a sliver of doubt broke through at the word. But then Ford was giving his shoulder a squeeze, bringing him in tighter for a one-armed hug.

“You did it, Stan. That was all you. You beat it.”

Stan sniffed at the words, self-consciousness slipping through as he tried to shrug off Ford’s arm. “Don’t give me that. I didn’t do it all alone, or nothin’.”

“Oh? I’m pretty sure everything you’ve said up until this moment, very much points to that.”

Stan tried to shake him off again, the hand actually latching on tighter against his rocking movements. He gave a soft huff, a sigh of defeat as Ford ignored him and continued to give him a look that broached no arguments. “Alright, I did it.” He felt his back straighten at the words, a small puff of pride that he tried to hide. “I won, happy? Now let’s stop being sappy and- will you let go of me, you limpet?”

Ford’s grin turned victorious, smug and self-satisfied. “Make me.”

Stan watched the kids as they started their own competition, skipping stones and splashing in the waves that no longer held the cold edge he’d given them at the start of their visit. He felt Ford settle self-assured beside him, still clutched on tight as if prepared for whatever Stan was thinking.

After all they both knew he wouldn’t take that challenge lying down.

Stan’s brain ticked away until with a barely audible chuckle the start of an idea formed. “Hey, Ford?”

“Hmm?”

“How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowly took in the question. “Is that a riddle? Why on earth would I know- wait, Stan, _no_ -”

“Tentacles!” Stan dived for Ford’s sides, a high pitch scream alerting the kids to the ensuing tickle fight.

Ford found it hard to breathe, his hands dropped to flail against Stan’s hands, the sensation overwhelming after thirty years of nothingness. He’d been impressed by the feel of sand beneath his feet, this was far too much to deal with. “Stan- Stan, please-”

“Oh? Have I won again?”

“ _Yes_! Just _stop_!” Ford relaxed as the feeling vanished, his breathing back on track as he glared up at his brother. “Of all the things- why that?!”

“Well, you were clinging to me like an octopus, it seemed fitting.” Stan shrugged, patting him apologetically on the head, though his face said he meant nothing of the sentiment.

“I’m not a fish!”

“You could have fooled me, I’d say most things that survive underwater for thirty years count as a fish to some degree…” Stan hummed.

Ford spluttered unintelligibly for a few moments as Stan roared with laughter above him. “Stan!”

“What? If you can make ‘I slept for thirty years’ jokes, I can most definitely make fish jokes.”

Ford pushed him away, his dark grumble turning into a huff of a laugh as Stan went face first into the sand with a thud.

“Hey!”

“What? You deserved that! I was only giving you a hug- they’re mandatory in this family, remember? Mabel’s orders.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still a clingy octopus.”

A small gasp broke through their jovial bickering, the pair’s attention snapping over to the kids in a heartbeat with worry as Mabel stood there with her hands over her mouth.

Really, they needn’t have worried.

“That’s it! I know what the best design for your next sweater is, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel jumped up and down, running a lap around them in excitement as Dipper joined them. “A hug monster sweater! With a friendly octopus!”

And with that Stan was gone, dissolving into another fit of giggles as Ford did a very good and unwitting impression of a goldfish, which only added to Stan’s mirth.

“See? Mabel gets it! You’re a sea creature!” Stan couldn’t quite manage to get himself standing as he doubled over with laughter in the sand, Ford’s mystified face amusing him to no end.

Ford huffed again, any actual annoyance unable to keep hold as Mabel gleefully ran around him. He shrugged his shoulders, accepting his fate as he swept her up into a hug.

After all, if he was going to be called a hug monster, he might as well enjoy the benefits of the title.

“Well, if I’m an octopus, that must mean you’re my little limpet.” Ford prodded Mabel’s nose, getting a bubbling chirp for his efforts as she nodded away to the nickname. He hummed thoughtfully, sitting down beside Stan to bundle up Dipper in his arms as well. “And that must mean you, my boy, are a batfish!”

The other three paused, the reference lost to them. Stan raised an eyebrow, his laughter dropping to bemusement. “A what now?”

“A batfish! They’re some of the most curious fish I know- well other than some cryptids but, that goes without saying- what?”

“Nothing.” Stan gave him an odd, endearing smile. “You’re still such a _nerd_ , that’s all.”

Ford sniffed, clutching Dipper closer. “You understand, don’t you?” The imploring tone almost had Stan dissolving into chuckles again.

Dipper hugged him back, his face bright. “Well, I’ve never met a batfish but I can’t say I’m not curious.”

“Too curious for your own good.” Stan couldn’t help but rumble out, eyes on both of them as they both sheepishly looked away.

“Aren’t we all? A little bit?” Dipper tried to excuse himself, fingers almost touching as he turned to his sister for help.

“Yeah, I mean… I’m sure that’s a family trait. Or well, more not knowing when to quit.” Ford added, eyes going back to Stan with a look that dared him to argue.

Stan rolled his eyes, looking at the three of them, with their smug knowing looks that told him that there really was no use disputing their points. “Well, it’s three against one so looks like I can’t win this battle.” He raised a hand to his forehead and cast a glance up to the sky, though it wasn’t long before the view of his family pulled in his attention again, unable to really believe that everything was finally as it should be.

“Stan? What’s that soppy look for?”

Stan pouted, annoyed that he’d been caught in the act. “Nothing, Poindexter. Just thinking how late it was and how us big kids are still playing about on the beach half soaked. I think it’s time to make a move-”

His words were met with various outcries of disappointment.

“Hey- don’t give me that! Considering what we’ve been through, I think I’ve done well making sure that house has no colds in it and I’m not about to start letting any in now! So come on, time to get warm and dry, before the sea breeze gives anyone a chill.”

“Do we at least get hot chocolate?”

“What kind of person do you take me for? Of course there’s going to be hot chocolate.”

 

* * *

 

Ford was really happy with his sweater really ♥ Even if it just added to Stan’s terrible pun repertoire. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Woooo Dipper and Stan needed a conversation after all that! Get everything out in the open! More fluff but also a few loose ends tied up c:  
> Also just so you guys know, a small part of this was based on actual conversation between me and Ran.  
> …Sneaking for crabs made perfect sense in my head.


	14. The Plea That Lit The Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nightmares, intrusive thoughts and suicidal ideation.

_Keeper…_

The nights were still the hardest.

When everyone else had finally fallen asleep and everything felt off kilter again.

Stan gave an endearing sigh as he ruffled his brother’s hair, getting a small still asleep frown for his efforts. The two kids were bundled up in his arms, all three fast asleep on the sofa from a day filled with beach adventures and an evening filled with warm drinks and warmer company as the TV droned on through movie after movie until eyelids slipped and small bodies grew heavy and cumbersome.

And soon enough Ford and Stan were giggling, hushed words over two fast asleep children accompanying the soft music permeating from whatever movie had been left long forgotten.

But even that was short lived, Stan huffing out a small rumble of laughter as his brother, regardless of his fast slurring words that he would stay awake until the end of the movie, soon followed the kids into the land of nod. Even in sleep, his arms still locked around the two kids, his head resting on his brother’s shoulder as if drawing enough warmth from them to make up for the years apart.

Stan had hummed, holding all three of them for a while as his eyes focused back on the TV, hopeful that soon enough he too would drift off. He sat, trying not to smile too much even with no one there to see, as he already wistfully thought about the morning and the gruff words he would spout at Mabel waking first and taking opportune photos of everyone else fast asleep, bundled up in as many blankets as Mabel had been able to carry in one trip down the stairs from Ford’s room.

But sleep never came.

“Come on.” Stan hit his head on the back of the sofa, a small sigh of irritation leaving him as he soon became restless. He never had been one to lie awake until he fell asleep, it never _worked_. He’d toss and turn, think about the things he had to do, think about how much work had to be done and soon enough up he’d be, stretching and heading to the lighthouse to continue working, regardless of the sleep he knew he desperately needed.

After all, Ford was waiting for him.

And even with Ford beside him, Ford completely ok and here and _safe_ \- something in him still wouldn’t let him sleep.

It wasn’t anything in particular, thirty years of unforgiving thoughts and an even more unforgiving schedule, his body just couldn’t seem to get into the mind-set that everything was fine now, that he could rest easily without worry, that he had finally done something worthwhile.

That he _deserved_ to sleep.

For some reason that was the hardest thing of all to stick, that he was allowed to rest, that he deserved it, that the world wasn’t going to fall apart as soon as he closed his eyes-

That Ford would still be there when he opened them again.

He gave a deep groan, hand scrubbing at his face. Ford muttered, a small upset noise before burrowing into his side further as if he could feel Stan’s distress and even in sleep wanted to smooth away the wayward thoughts. A soft warm feeling filled Stan’s chest. He knew that it was all nightmares, the scant amount of sleep he was getting still filled with them whenever he finally caved, either at the kitchen table or actually in his bed like he was meant to. That every time the darkness descended, he would scurry downstairs quickly and find his brother already awake and giving him a smile from above a cup of coffee, which led to good natured bickering even if now Ford was up and about Stan couldn’t stop him ingesting as much caffeine as he could muster.

Yes, he knew that they were baseless. His mind playing tricks on him because his mind had _never_ exactly been kind to him- but that didn’t mean they were easy to ignore when the world was dark and he woke up shaking and alone in his room with the dismal panic that everything had been a dream and the world hadn’t righted itself like he had hoped so desperately for.

He didn’t know what he’d do if one day he went downstairs and Ford wasn’t there, that this had all been a dream and the kids had never gotten to meet…

A small tremor went through him at the thought, his arms tightening around the three of them as he shook his head.

_No, this is real. This isn’t a dream.  
…Are you sure? Can you ever really be sure?_

Stan scowled at the slippery thought, intrusive and vastly unwelcome. He ignored it. Focused on his families breathing, focused on the small drumbeat of a heart from the small hand tight around his even in sleep. “Of course I’m sure.” The words came out without effort, whispered into the night and he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination but Ford seemed to relax even further at the determined words.

_Oh? Is that so? You know- when have you ever_ **known** _anything?_   
_I just do. There’s no two ways about it._   
_Ahh- gut instinct. I guess it had to be, you’re not Sixer, after all. No facts and figures, just baseless optimism… I didn’t even know you were still capable of that._

Stan’s teeth gritted tight, eyes darting around as a cold draft descended. He felt Dipper shudder and brought the blankets up around him further, unthinkingly as he regarded the voice silently. Whatever it was seemed to wait in the wings, in the stark shadows accentuated by the TV’s harsh glow across the four of them, bundled up in a bubble of light inside the darkness that he refused to let into their little world.

Oh, yes, he knew the creature was there. Knew now more than he ever had before that it was _its_ words that added to his own overflowing self-doubt and self-loathing. Fed off of all those twisted, scarred emotions and tugged them to the forefront to watch him stew and rot in them. Had watched him struggle and fight on the precipice of those agonising thoughts all alone in the gloom of the lantern room, year after year. Decade after decade. Oh, he knew it was there and he knew these thoughts and feelings were his own, just magnified and fizzling for whatever motive this creature had, to play with him, to toy with his emotions, to watch him jump hoops and run rings all to get his brother back. It was ironic looking back, knowing that the deeper he fell into the pit of despair, the harder he strived for a purpose- strived to drag his brother back from the hell the creature showed him night after night if he gave in to sleep. It was ironic to realise that this creature had been able to read him like an open book, had known exactly how to play him to get the results it required of him.

The conman stripped bare of his façade.

A wide tooth filled grin, sharp and vicious coasted across his face.

That was why the victory was all the sweeter. He’d done everything the creature had wanted, and still come out on top.

Underestimated until the very end. No longer a pawn in the creature’s game, but the victor defeating the odds.

He always had been a gambler.

And even now he was gambling with everything he held dear, a single trail of thought sliding through as he closed his eyes and let the sounds of the TV drag him back to reality.

Yes, just like he knew that this was reality, he knew that it was there, eyes glowing unseen in the darkness, teeth chattering in warning in his peripheral.

But that didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it.

Sure, maybe it would be good, healthy even, to acknowledge that the words were not his own. That his head wasn’t quite as self-destructive as he always thought it had been. But then again, he knew that no matter what, monster or no monster, he still had his own demons, not quite buried away and always ready to claw themselves out of whatever recess he had managed to push them into.

No, it was better not to give this creature any credit at all. It was all in his head, it always had been.

What better way to really drive it home that he had won, than to ignore everything this creature had tried to accomplish with him?

_Optimism? That died a long time ago. But gut instinct and reckless determination seem to have gotten me this far, with or without that.  
Oh, you don’t really think you’ve won, do you?_

A sharp chuckle sounded through the still air, a hissing sound as if air was being pushed past more teeth than Stan could count. His teeth gritted even further, his hands bunching into fists as he kept his eyes closed and refused to converse any further. The draft slipped over his shoulders and down his spine as if something was settling around him. He forced his hands open, tugged another of the blankets tight around him as he latched on to the warmth of the other bodies on the sofa. There was only so far that he could pretend the voice was his own, keep talking like he used to, keep thinking the voice was a biting sharp edged blade forged inside his own mind to cut him to the quick.

_Oh? Are we done? Can’t think of anymore arguments, keeper?_  
_…Well, that won’t stop me talking. You have after all, already let me in._  
 _You think you’ve won, little keeper? Think you’ve stopped me?_  
 _You were just one avenue, one option. You weren’t special, you never were. What’s special about you? My little key held more promise than you did, jumping at the chance to help me…_

Stan’s frown grew stronger, his arm tightening around his brother as if to protect him from the unseen assailant.

_Oh, so you are still listening. Silly keeper, you just can’t stop doing things you shouldn’t, can you?_  
But don’t worry, it won’t be long now. You seem to think this is it.  
It’s not.  
It’ll never be over.  
I’ll always be here, watching… waiting.  
You’ll slip up one day, you’ll need that light again, you **know** _it will happen._   
_Someone else will fall, someone easy to lure out, easy to trick…_

A small sigh reminded Stan of the three bodies, so unaware of the conflict running around his head. He tried his best, tried to push the thoughts away but they tugged at those fears all over again. All those little thoughts already there that blossomed into thick vines that made it hard to breathe as he sat there. Small flashing images of history repeating itself, of the world turning on its head again as someone once again falls where he can’t protect them.

There was a scream, an echoing sound that he chased through the darkness, so familiar and so heart-breaking.

“Grunkle Stan!”

He tried to shake his head, tried to remind himself that that particular scream had been born from his foolhardy nature, that in reality it was a cry of relief at seeing him back on solid ground after rescuing his brother.

“Stan!”

A tremble of fear shot through him as they continued, as both twins cried out in fear, his brother’s voice soon joining them and when he turned to face them they were no longer there.

A moonlit sandy beach where his family had once been.

He felt his knees give out beneath him, the moon casting a sickly yellow hue on the scene. With a nauseated gaze he saw two sand angels, half made in the sand from that morning, the sea lapping over them, slowly wiping them from sight as if they had never been there. Even so he could still see the fresher marks, the deeper ones. The clawed gouges in the sand, hands trying desperately to stay on dry land as they were dragged into the sea, the voices gurgling and joining the bubbling foam of the ocean until nothing remained.

Dipper’s cry echoed in a way unlike Mabel’s, still sounding after the others had long since faded until there was a terrible sickening crunch. The wind vanished, complete solid silence flooding the area. He found his body moving without conscious effort, facing the caves that had terrified the boy as pages scattered out of the opening, all of Dipper’s hard work fluttering across the winds splattered in a horrid viscous black liquid that also trailed in rivulets from the cave entrance.

_And I’ll take more this time. You hold so many silly things dear to your heart, so many things to take away from you…_   
_One by one._   
_One by one they’ll find their way to me, one by one I’ll take them._   
_One by one, you’ll lose everything you hold so close to you._

A terrified Wendy swam behind his eyelids, knocked from her father’s fishing boat into the sea, his arm outstretched but grasping air where she had been moments before. Her father’s booming voice laced with a terror he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard in real life as he tried to find her in the waves. Soos dragged out by an undertow from the shore, swept away within the blink of an eye before he could help him. He could hear wailing in the distance, heart shattering as he remembered promises he’d made long ago to keep him safe, to keep him from forgetting the stories he’d always been told as a child.

_You should have just let me free when you had the chance, little light keeper._  
_I might have been kinder._  
 _But you always know what you can do to stop all that pain…_

The sky darkened as Stan stood frozen on the beach, eyes locked to a small shadowed figure falling from the lighthouse balcony to the crashing waves below. No one else left to care, no one other than him to watch the person give up and give in to the creature.

_You can’t stop anything else, keeper. You can’t stop me, not forever._  
_I’ll never leave, you know. I’ll always be here. Long before you and long after you, I shall still be here._  
 _But as long as you are here, I still have someone to play with, something to occupy my time with._  
 _Oh, little keeper, all those twisted little thoughts, all those hopeless nights, every time you close your eyes and think about what could have been or what might still be – you let me in. And I’ll never stop, you can’t help but let me in._  
 _I’ll never leave._  
 _Not until you let me out and finish what you started or until you’re rotting down here with me._  
 _That’s the only choice you have._  
 _Whether or not you’re around to see me take back my rightful place, that’s the only power you have._  
 _So choose little keeper, choose whether you have it in you to keep fighting._  
 _Because watching you run around in circles has amused me for all this time, I’d love to keep watching you dance for the rest of your miserable little existence._

“Stop it. You can’t do anything! You’re stuck down there, stuck as long as that light stays out!” Stan roared into the air, the clouds darkening across the sky as the wind tugged at his hair, at his clothes, making him squint as the moon was finally covered and a cackling laugh filled the darkness.

_Then rot in that lighthouse, keeper. Waste away in there making sure I never return._  
_Because once you’re gone, there’ll be someone else to take your place, to become the key and let me out._  
 _You can’t win. You never won. You’ll lose, whichever route you choose._  
 _But you still must choose._

The light came on in the lighthouse, blinding Stan where he stood, his hand raised up to shield himself.

But even blinded, lights sparking behind his eyelids, he still saw the shadow amongst them. The figure perpetually falling. Over and over again he went, never able to escape his fate, always walking towards his own doom.

_Just jump, keeper.  
Jump and save us all the trouble._

And suddenly he was falling, the sands beneath him shifting and sliding to nothingness and as he blinked the lighthouse came into view above him, quickly becoming smaller and smaller as his hand reached out to the railing he hadn’t even tried to hold on to.

The cackling was all that he could hear, vibrating through his entire body in a painful heave of sound that made it impossible for him to move. The wind tore into him, ice cold and sharp as if he was falling through the shattered remnants of the glass panes above.

_Shh…_

Stan blinked past the pain, another voice entering the fray, a soft warmth dampening the cold, melting the ice until the sharpness vanished and the cold soaked into him instead of tearing him to ribbons.

He felt heavy, heavy and sluggish but there was something there, a spark of something else. He could feel something heavy in his arms, a hint of a memory as he dragged his brother from the depths and the pair of them broke the surface.

The cackling died, a lilt of confusion taking over as Stan looked back up, his brother’s hand reaching out to him, face panic-stricken from the top of the lighthouse as he fell.

And Stan’s resolve stopped wavering, the beat of his own pulse steadying beneath his skin as his eyes hardened.

_No! We beat you!  
I beat you!_

Stan landed with a thud, jolting to sit up as the blankets fell around him. His brother clutched tightly to his arm as he tried to take deep breaths, keeping as still as possible as he waited for the fear to pass.

He froze as the hand patted him, an apology stuck uselessly on his lips as he caught his brother’s concerned frown, his eyes still tightly shut.

“Shh…”

He couldn’t help the bubble of a laugh that left him as he realised that Ford was still mostly asleep, if not completely, his arm patting his arm haphazardly and lethargically as the comforting mumbles became a slur of words Stan couldn’t actually make out.

Stan ran a hand through his hair, watching the frown smooth out at the action. “Hey, it’s OK, Ford. Just a dream, go back to sleep. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

_Doesn’t he?_

Stan tilted his head to the side, a violent burst of irritation needing to be dampened before he screamed and woke them all up. He shuffled from his space, slowly guiding Ford to lay down properly with the twins resting on his chest. He tucked them all in with some semblance of a smile, pushing the thoughts away as he let their steady sleep centre him. “Just a dream. Just the remnants of a dream. That things not real, just a nightmare. Only ever been a nightmare and will always be _just_ a nightmare.”

_Oh? Is that all I am? You’re sure of that?_

“Yep.” Stan glared at nothing as he straightened up. “Nothing to worry about. After all that, I actually did manage to fall asleep, who’d have thought it? Pity my brain’s such a horrid space to be stuck in though.” The voice started to ebb away, a hiss of irritation sparking something hot and viciously victorious in him as the heat of his reckless nonchalance forced the cloying cold from his shoulders. “Just my head. Always was my weakness, my brains not good for anything, never has been.”

_Maybe you should get rid of it then. Stop thinking altogether._

“Now you stop that.” Stan chided himself, ignoring the growl as he focused on the intrusive thoughts. “You’ve got Ford back, your family is all together and things are going right. You’ve just got to find a distraction for the night and deal with Mabel’s scolding in the morning.” Another affectionate bubble of warmth filled his chest at the thought of the small girl, the darkness lifting just that bit further from his surroundings. “Yup, gonna have to deal with that in the morning, but better that than being stuck in there with you, wayward thoughts.”

Even with no one around to talk to, filling the air with his own words seemed to help keep everything at bay. Point out the good, keep talking over any voice that tried to strike up a conversation, push past every small sharp scratch of worry, every icy shiver of self-doubt that he was wrong.

He always was a gambler, and his reckless abandon had always made it so hard to throw in the towel when the stakes were high and the reward was higher.

Even so, he knew it would only last for so long. He could only keep chattering quietly to himself for so long before someone woke up, and he couldn’t have that. There was only so long he could keep up the mantra anyway without something to occupy himself before the looming darkness engulfed him again. It wouldn’t take long, he’d slip up, falter and the thoughts would crowd in again.

The nights were always the worst.

When everyone else was asleep and he was left to his own devices.

His eyes found the lighthouse through the window he was pacing beside, his feet pausing as he weighed up his options.

The voices had always been the loudest up there.

But it had also been the place where he had gotten the most done, his purpose tied tight to its timeless structure.

Each night he had ignored the voices, held on to the ones that were important and thrown himself into work, thrown himself into the distraction that the manual labour gave his hands.

The image of a small figure falling, superimposed itself onto the view before him.

He glanced back to his family, sleeping safe and sound behind him. He could go back, could try and sleep even if it was a fruitless endeavour. Or he could go up to the lighthouse, get back to work and see where it took him. See if it was his salvation or his downfall.

He could just try and sleep, do the normal thing and pretend his nightmares hadn’t happened. Or even wake his brother, ask for comfort, let him help him, but that made it real. That made the creature real.

He looked again towards his family, peaceful and resting, his brother finally sleeping which Stan had been trying to get him to do since he’d got him back. A wave of guilt at even thinking about waking him slid across him for a moment as he pushed the half formed idea away before it could take root.

He stood back up straight, turning towards the door.

…He always had been a gambler.

* * *

The gloom outside was ominous at best.

Pinpricks fizzled down his back, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he walked with purposeful strides down the path, his footfalls heavy and loud to counteract the multitude of noises that crept up on him through the shadows of the trees.

He shook himself, refusing to take his eyes off the path and the door ahead.

After all, he’d done this trip before, multiple times. Up and down he’d traced a path through the gravel, an indent forming from his continuous efforts.

It didn’t matter what lurked in the darkness, only that he didn’t give it power.

It had always been that way, and in an odd twisted notion it was almost comforting. The same old path, the same old monsters lurking just out of sight, dancing and scrabbling for attention on his peripheral, against the new fears and worries that had been consuming his time and thoughts recently.

His shoulders lost their tenseness, his back straightening as he held his head high.

_You’ve never scared me before, you won’t scare me now._

He wasn’t sure if he heard a cackle or just thought about it but either way he chalked it up to the wind rustling through the trees and continued ever onwards on his path.

_Just the wind, just the waves. Just animals in the trees or off the path where you can’t see them. Just normal everyday- every night? Life taking place around you as usual._

_Just the things that are always out there on the edge of your vision waiting for you to let them in-_

A twig cracked behind him, muted by the stillness, but there just in hearing distance. He ignored it, refusing to let the creatures get the best of him. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of being spooked, jumping at every sound or cringing at every movement-

A crunch of gravel behind him made his feet slow, his movements hesitant even as he plunged forward regardless. That had never happened before, the sounds were always in the trees, always in the rustle of the leaves and in the sway of the grass. Always something he could brush away with a small mantra of a thought.

_Just the wind, just the waves. Just a woodland creature that got a bit close to you before realising and is now scampering away quickly-_

The gravel crunched again, and then again. Soft feet falling into step behind him and making his hackles rise as the sound refused to falter, refused to vanish where he could pretend he’d never heard it to begin with.

_OK, that’s not the wind. That’s not the waves. That’s something tangible._

His eyes glinted in the darkness as another twig snapped, much closer and most definitely on the path behind him.

_If it’s tangible, it’s punchable._

And with that, with the gunshot of a crack that was the twig crunching under something’s foot, he spun around on the balls of his feet. The small torch that he had brought with him caught on the figure behind him, his other hand raised ready in warning for whatever it was to take another step closer. “Alright, whatever you are-”

He froze, his brother’s shocked and confused pale face lit up in the darkness. “Sixer?”

“I- uhh- uhm-”

Stan blinked a few more times at him, the frazzled deer in headlights look taking the thunder out of his movements, visibly deflating as he relaxed. He rubbed a hand at his chest, his heart trying its damnedest to beat completely out of his ribcage by the feel of it as he tried to calm himself.

_You really are scared of your own shadow, aren’t you? Just your silly brother trying to be sneaky._

“What on earth are you doing out here, Sixer?”

“I- uhh- I could ask you the same question?”

Stan huffed, shaking his head as Ford tried to take control of the situation, still looking shame-faced at least, at being caught red handed following his brother. “Uh-huh?”

Ford’s hands that had been up placatingly, finally dropped to his sides as he stood up straight. “Alright, I was worried. I mean one second I was falling asleep on the sofa with my family and the next my brother’s pacing a hole in the carpet and muttering to himself before walking out of the house in the middle of the night.”

Stan winced, eyes closing apologetically, though he still heard with a painful spike of guilt, the tut of hurt disapproval at his flinching actions. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, that’s- that’s not what I meant, Stan.” Ford sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You worried me, I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

“I’m fine, just couldn’t sleep. You should go back to sleep, the kids will worry if we’re both not there when they wake up.”

“Stan. Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” Stan felt his hackles raise for a completely different reason, drawing back towards the lighthouse without thought.

“This! Closing off! Not letting me help!” Ford huffed, hand still tugging at his hair. “I thought we’d got it into both our heads that we need to communicate?”

“We did but- you were asleep! And I’m _fine_.”

“Yes, of course, because leaving the house in the middle of the night without telling anyone whilst muttering that you’re ‘not good for anything’ to yourself is the definition of _fine_.”

“Actually it was that my brain’s not good for anything.”

“Because that’s in some way better?” The words came out in an exasperated sigh that had Stan blinking and at least pausing for thought. Ford shook his head fondly, hoping his words had gotten through to him. “So, I’ll ask again… what are you doing, Stan?”

“I’m… going to work?”

“To work?”

Stan shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “I-I dunno. I can’t sleep and I thought the lighthouse would help.”

“But-”

“But I’ve already got you back? I know that. I just- it’s been part of my routine for so long now, it’s hard to not just feel the need to go up there.” Stan bit down on the nightmare, bit down on blurting out about the voice.

Ford didn’t need to know all that, saying it out-loud made it real.

None of it was real.

“Stan.” The voice was appeasing now, filled with well-meant comfort and logic. “You know that that light can’t come back on. That going up there now could- well- you might-”

And with that, something snapped slightly, Stan’s eyes hardening and stopping Ford’s words in his tracks.

“Of course I know that. I’m not trying to get the light on tonight. Why would I do that? I’ve got you back from that- there’s no need to put the light on, ever again.” Stan sniffed, as if offended that Ford could even imply that he was trying to do that.

“Then, why-”

“I need to figure out how to make sure that the light never comes on again, of course.” Stan let out a bark of hollow laughter. “I mean, it only took thirty years to get it to come on properly, how hard can it be to make sure it doesn’t do that again, huh?”

“Stan…”

Stan sighed, eyes finding Ford’s worried expression again. “Look, I just- I need to do _something_ , OK?”

“Then rest, Stan. Sleep. Isn’t that what you keep telling me to do? It’s like 1am, bro…” Ford’s words fizzled out at Stan’s expression, as he seemed to gulp past something stuck in his throat.

“I can’t.” Stan shrugged, trying to smile but failing. “I just can’t, I need something to do.”

“…You know Mabel’s going to tell us off in the morning.”

“Us?”

“Well yeah, not about to let you spend the night up there alone.” Ford frowned distastefully at the lighthouse, the thoughts of the other wisps that tapped on the glass filling him with unease and the resolve to ignore all and any arguments Stan put forward.

Stan seemed ready to dispute with him as well, opening and closing his mouth a few times, but only for a moment before settling instead for a soft grateful smile. “You sure? You can go back to sleep, Sixer. I promise I’m fine.”

“I know you are. Doesn’t mean I don’t think it’d be nice to spend the evening talking up there while you work. I bet it’s peaceful up there.” Ford tripped over his words, not wanting to break the tentative thread that had been mustered between them, not wanting Stan to push him to leave him be.

“Hey, vs those two whirlwinds everywhere is peaceful once they’re asleep.” Stan scrutinised his brother, a small cheeky grin sliding on to his face now that the worries and doubts seemed to have lifted. “So, were you trying to sneak after me? Because you- uhh, kind of failed there.”

Ford flushed, embarrassment overflowing as he looked down at his feet in annoyance. “I mean, I’m sure I’ve been a lot quieter on this path before. I’ve followed you a few times over the years.”

“Uh-huh?”

Ford huffed, scowling at Stan and then back down at his feet as his arms crossed. “I have! And you never noticed before!”

Stan snorted at the expression. “Wow, you really are a fish out of water, aren’t you? Not used to your legs anymore.” He waited a beat as Ford continued to glare at his own feet in irritation, eyebrow raised before he saw a small dawning look of realisation on Ford’s face and used that moment to turn away, grinning smugly.

“Did you just-”

“Waste a perfectly good joke on my oblivious brother? No, not at all. Come on, Casper, I’m going in now and I don’t want you thinking you can walk through doors as well as silently follow people about.”

“Not this again- who or what is Casper?!”

* * *

There was a companionable atmosphere a while later, warm and inviting even with the thick glass walls around them trying to leech the heat away. It had started off with some chattering, some banter back and forth, all the way up the stairs and onwards as Stan settled into his familiar routine with ease. It had been a comfort, Stan’s voice and the glow of his lantern ahead of him as they traversed the small, winding stairs. Ford almost hoped his brother didn’t notice the hitch in his breath when the door closed, nor how he shuffled closer as the world was shut out behind them. Hoped he couldn’t see how the gloom felt like a solid wall against his back, couldn’t feel the sudden tense atmosphere as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his mind cast images of glowing eyes burning holes into the back of his skull just waiting for him to turn around.

The darkness had taken on a new sharper edge since he had returned home, much like the cold seemed to seep in that much faster, all the way to his core. On more than one occasion Dipper had jokingly scolded him for falling asleep while reading, making the logical assumption for the lamp beside his bed still being on as the sun rose in the morning. He had stuttered out an excuse, shamefaced and disappointed in himself when Dipper had teased that he’d have to take it away if he didn’t get enough sleep, almost promising himself that he’d stop needing it soon. But the next night was always the same. A childish fear turned into a shockingly painful reality that he couldn’t escape from. A fear he hated to admit still existed and had intensified, blooming ice cold and deadly in his dreams that spoke of never having escaped the abyss.

His hopes seemed to go unheeded though, even if Stan didn’t say a word. The lantern managed to find its way much closer to his perch than Ford thought was strictly necessary, even if he was eternally grateful for the gesture, especially when Stan started to squint at his writing in the gloom across from him.

As much as his brain warred over Stan straining himself, the light helped ease the tightness around his heart that had begun when his brother had vanished into the night and had grown exponentially as he tried to follow him along the almost pitch black path. Ford settled on the floor as his brother worked, his pottering away and the flickering warm light making his eyelids heavy as the rhythm of his actions sent him into a tranquil daze. A jacket was thrown over him at some point, an item of contention when the motion woke him up and he tried to give it back to no avail, the light getting a similar rebuttal when he tried to shuffle it further away from him and was promptly placed back in its original spot.

So for a while at the very least he had tried to wake up properly, to rekindle that conversation they had had the last time he had been up here, when he had thought it was his last time seeing his brother and he had wanted to make the most of it. This time it was obvious that something had happened, that Stan wanted to distract himself and take his mind off of other things and Ford was happy to oblige. He brought up old memories, little bits and pieces to make his brother chuckle. He even brought up a few things from when they had been apart, silly nonsensical things that had happened at college or once he’d moved here to get Stan asking questions, always intrigued about the parts of his life that he had missed.

He tried to coax the same from Stan, though it was a lot harder. Some things that Stan found to be amusing, gave a shrug and said were an average day, left a vaguely bitter taste in Ford’s mouth. Luckily there were other times though that he couldn’t seem to stop laughing as his brother spun a tale about finding a new attraction for the Shack on the beach which turned out to be a bit more lively than he had first anticipated.

But soon, Ford tired. He’d been asleep when Stan had jolted from his dreams, half asleep still when he heard the door snap shut and he’d suddenly noticed the cold spot where his brother had been and connected the dots to the muttering shadow that had been pacing the space before him as his mind clicked slowly back into place. And so again, he found his eyelids drooping as Stan continued to talk, for his own sake or Ford’s, he couldn’t quite tell but either way it was comforting to hear his voice, to see that soft smile on his face as he worked at a particularly annoying panel in the lighthouse that Ford knew for a fact had always irritated him.

And so with his own soft smile in place, he tugged the jacket tighter around him and tried to blink the tiredness away. “You always did turn that screw the wrong way.”

Stan huffed, good-humouredly. “Yeah, yeah, like you could do any bet…ter…”

The steady squeaking of metal paused, Stan’s voice dissipating into the night sky around them at the same moment. Ford frowned, eyes opening as silence took over, tension prickling at his skin and making him shudder. “Stan? Is something wrong?”

“You’ve said that before.”

Ford nodded without thought, brain still fogged with sleep as he tried to sit up straight and yawned. “I have, many times. Lots of times, I’ve watched you tackle that-” Another yawn took over as he scrubbed at his eye half-heartedly. “-particular screw many times. You always were stubborn, why didn’t you give up on it?”

“Cause, you never know…”

Ford’s frown deepened as Stan seemed at a loss for words, he blinked a few more times until he could focus in on his brother and abruptly he was wide awake, pushing up from his position to move over quickly. Stan’s face was almost distraught, a myriad of emotions filtering over in quick succession- relief, pain, distress, acceptance- all fluttering like something had suddenly changed and Ford had no idea what. “Stan? Stan, what is it?”

“You said earlier that you had followed me down that path before.”

Ford stared at him, settling a lot closer now, not touching but there if Stan needed him. He felt self-conscious suddenly as Stan watched him like a hawk, waiting for an answer. “Because I have. I followed you a few times, once the light was out and you went back home for your day job, I could stay here for just a bit longer, only ever observing.” His face turned bitter as his hand crept forward, tightening with a relieved sigh on Stan’s. “It’s… good to be able to feel again, for you to hear me again-”

“You don’t understand, Ford. I heard you, I heard you and I thought-”

“You heard me.” Ford’s words cut Stan off this time, silencing him as it was his turn to appraise him. There was a lightness to him as he went, a small happy thrill that he had been correct, that Stan had been listening and responding in a roundabout way. There was only one night that he had been optimistic Stan could hear him, was sure he was answering him but then again, until now he’d forgotten most of the conversation to really analyse it. “You could actually hear me! I was always so hopeful that you could…” Stan’s face was dark, still staring downwards and it made his heart sink. “What’s wrong? Is that a bad thing?”

“Hmm? No, I guess not.” Stan shook himself, his mouth tweaking into an offset smile that wouldn’t stick. “I mean- I guess I wasn’t hearing things, that’s always a plus, am I right?” He gave a small high pitched chuckle that set Ford’s teeth on edge. “There were a lot of nights where I thought I’d lost it entirely, talking to things that weren’t there.”

His words drifted as his eyes unfocused. Ford held his breath, not wanting to break the moment and for his brother to clam up again.

The words however, made his lungs ice over, convinced that a mist of frost would speckle out when he let out his next shaky breath.

“I didn’t want to… No, I wanted to believe but… If I believed in one voice I had to believe in them all.”

His brother had been able to hear the wisps too. The ones that tapped and sang, sharp hissing venom mixed with pleading words.

_Join us… stay with us… you’ll never win, come, come to us…_

“ _Stan_ …” The word came out in a choke, a painful bitter tang behind it that had Stan snapping out of his reverie in a panic. Ford obviously wasn’t meant to hear any of that, but when their eyes locked Stan knew as well as Ford did that they both knew exactly what voices had plagued him.

“S-sorry, forgot you were there for a minute.” Stan sat up again, the entire reminiscence seeming falling like water from his back but there was something there still, something that made Ford open his mouth to keep the conversation going but Stan beat him to it. “I- I can’t really explain it, it’s all muddled. I wanted it to be real so much that I was sure I was dreaming up your voice- I mean you even told me you were proud of me! That I was accomplishing more than you ever had, that had to be me…” He petered off as Ford stared at him, obviously trying to convey the truth. “Really? You- I… I guess you have proved that with our recent conversations, I just never thought I’d actually hear it…”

“Well, you did, Stan. I never got this lit.” Ford tapped the lantern with his knuckles, the metal ringing in protest. “Not once, in 5 years and on your first night here, boom.” He spread all his fingers, arms gesturing widely as he did so. “And then time and time again after that you got it working, maybe not all the way but still, there was nothing when I tried, not even a spark.” He shook his head, the voices far more pressing a conversation in his mind. “Anyway, back to-”

Ford would have been irritated at the amount of times Stan interrupted him and made him lose his train of thought if it wasn’t for the deep seated regret that pulsed through him at Stan’s next words.

“That means you actually said that too…” Stan’s baleful eyes locked him in place, freezing every muscle in him as shame bubbled up thick and fast. He didn’t know what he’d done but the distress in Stan’s eyes physically wounded him, the tears ready to spill forth a stab to his heart. “You said… you told me to stop. You told me it would have been better if you’d…” The words choked in Stan’s mouth as if the mere thought of them was too much.

_I’m sorry, Stan, you’ve been doing such a good job but now… now it’s time to rest. Time to stop. You have a life to live. It’s- it’s…_

_It’s time to grieve._

That was right. _That night_. The night Stan had responded, had told him to stop talking. Had pushed him away as another one of ‘the voices’. His heart sank into his stomach as he sat there, Stan still chattering away before him and cutting him with each rambling half thought.

“I mean, night after night you were there encouraging me, I thought it was all too good to be true. And then suddenly one night you changed your tune, it was like you tore me apart. Thirty years and you were suddenly telling me to give up, to let you go- to stop caring.” The words came out in a torrent. “Was it really you? Both times?” Ford nodded on autopilot and Stan choked. “How?! How could you tell me to stop searching for you?”

“I-I didn’t think you could get me out without bringing that creature out too. You- you were doing exactly what he wanted.”

“Yeah? Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you? Just like he did.” Stan snapped, scrubbing at his eyes in quick stuttering movements, trying to stop any tears before they had a chance to escape. “The both of you, the both of you thought I couldn’t do it, and look at where we are now.”

“Stan- please, I’m… I’m glad you ignored me, I’m glad you carried on and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for that night. You-” Ford stuttered to a halt, the night in question making him shake as he remembered Stan’s listless expression, his pale tired complexion.

_“Then what’s the point? No use to anyone…”_

“You… really scared me that night.”

Stan went quiet at the fearful confession, eyes widening as he remembered the moment when he had crumbled, had lost all hope. His voice turned gruff as he turned away. “Yeah well, that kind of happens when your guide does a 180 turn and tells you ‘everything you’ve done was for nothing’.”

Ford winced. “I am sorry. Honestly. I just- I wanted you to live, Stan. And you couldn’t do that still looking for me. You’d already wasted so many years-”

“ _Wasted_? You think I wasted them?”

“No! Not, not now.” Ford groaned, scrubbing at his face, any thoughts of sleep well and truly trodden into the mud. “Stan, stop twisting everything I say! Of course I’m grateful, I’m so glad that it all worked out. I can’t believe what you achieved- what you did to get me home. It was an amazing feat and I’m sorry I doubted you.”

The outburst was met with silence, Ford sagging under the sudden flare of emotion as guilt swirled around them both.

“Y-you… you said _goodbye_ , Sixer.”

Ford’s eyes closed, another sharp pain lancing through him as he realised just what he had done in those moments. He’d never regret them if Stan had listened, if Stan had stopped and gone about his life without him, he’d never have begrudged him that. But if something worse had happened because of his words…

He’d never have forgiven himself.

And in hindsight, it would never have deterred his brother, if anything there was a sharp tang of remorse settling in his throat at what he would have done if it was the other way around, how betrayed he would have felt if Stan had told him to give up and leave him down in the water.

If it was Stan that had said goodbye to him, had vanished from sight and willingly sacrificed himself to the waves.

…Ford would never have forgiven him.

Before he could think of anything to say however, there were suddenly arms encasing him, tugging him over full body into a warm chest that shook with sobs that he wasn’t allowed to see.

“Don’t- don’t you dare. I get it, I get why you did it as much as I hate that you did it. But don’t. Don’t you ever, _ever_ say goodbye to me like that again, do you hear me?”

Ford burrowed into the warmth, arms encircling Stan to pull him tighter and rub at his back. “OK, OK, I promise.”

“And don’t ever even think about telling me to give up on you again, because I can’t- I _can’t_ -” Stan’s words stuttered to a halt again, a small shushing from Ford just enough to get him back on track. “Just- don’t, OK? Don’t tell me to give up on you or stop trying because I’ll always be there to protect you. You and the kids and Soos and Wendy and- everyone else. And I need to do that, I _need_ to know I can protect you all and the thought of you telling me not to and to let you go-”

“Shh, OK, Stan, I get it. I’m sorry.” Ford bit his tongue from the words he wanted to spill. He knew that this wasn’t just about what he’d said, that something had happened that had made Stan worry, had made him fear that something would happen again and he wouldn’t be able to stop it and he’d blame himself. “As long as you’ll always be there to protect us, I won’t say a word about you giving up or leaving me behind or anything like that again.” He pulled away hesitantly, trying to catch Stan’s eye. “Wherever we go, we go together, right?”

Stan shook for a second more, his face scrunching up as he rubbed at his eye with a nod. “Y-yeah. Wherever we go, we go together. You better remember that, Sixer.”

“Always.”

There was silence for a moment as both of them took stock of themselves, stitched themselves back together after another emotional conversation. But Ford hoped that it had been another meaningful one, that this was another link in building the bridge that had been lost years ago. There’d be a few bumps, a few twists and turns but he knew that they were both working towards the same goal.

He just hoped he wasn’t about to throw a spanner in that work.

“…Stan?”

“…Yeah?”

The voice was hesitant, perturbed and Ford bit his lip nervously. “I know you don’t want to hear it but part of the reason I asked you to stop was because that… _thing_ , was hanging over you. The creature that had me locked down there, I could sometimes see him whispering to you, slipping into your head whilst you slept. He even impersonated me at times.”

He waited quietly as Stan blinked at him as if struggling to remember a specific voice. He wanted to bring them all up, bring up the wisps that flowed through the fog at the windowpane and whistled through the air like a vengeful breeze. But there was only so much that could be brought up in one conversation before they were both too emotionally drained.

These things took time, he wouldn’t rush him.

But he needed to know what that _thing_ had told him.

“I mean…”

Ford sat up straight as Stan’s face wavered, he could tell there was more there than he wanted to say but he tried to be patient, to see where he went with his words.

“I heard other voices, I just assumed they were all in my head, including yours.”

Ford nodded, trying not to wince as icy shivers fluttered down his back at the sinking weight that Stan was used to voices like the wisps, that they weren’t so foreign that he knew they weren’t his own.

“But none of them mattered, because even- heh- even when I didn’t believe in it, yours was the only voice I paid attention to.”

“He used my voice too.” Ford gestured around helplessly, trying to remember exactly what was said as Stan looked on at him disbelievingly. “He- he asked you for help with my voice. Begged, pleaded with you in a panic.”

“Come on, Sixer, you think I wouldn’t know when something was impersonating you?”

Ford closed his eyes at the question. He knew the answer to it, knew that it might as well have been a recording, but his throat was closing up as he tried to answer. Water was sliding down his throat in a torrent as he found himself locked at the bottom of the ocean as its weight crushed into him and only bubbles of fear fled out of his mouth instead of the scream that wanted to erupt.

“Whoa! Whoa, Sixer, you’ve gone as white as a sheet!”

“H-he…” Ford gulped, opening his eyes, tearing himself out of the dark abyss and back into the warmly lit room with his brother’s even warmer hand grasping his to keep him afloat. “He… I can’t-”

“Hey, shh, it’s OK. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Stan shushed him, his thumb moving in small circles on the back of his hand and dragging him further and further from the sea.

“I need to-” Ford took a deep breath, marvelling at the lungful of air before shakily letting it out again. “I can’t explain but- I did panic, but it wasn’t when the light was on. He wanted you to work faster so he… produced an incentive and used it more than once to his advantage.”

Stan’s eyes sparked with fury as the words sunk in, a fire igniting in them before he took a deep breath himself and seemed to physically shrug it from his shoulders. His face was grim but set with a determination that Ford couldn’t yet muster himself. “Well, as much as I really, really want to drag that creature from the depths and beat it back into oblivion- we won, Sixer. We won and that thing is never going to hurt you ever again.”

Ford nodded, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to look up, the rows of jagged teeth and glistening bulbous eyes still too fresh in his mind’s eye to want to look up at the ceiling of the lantern room. “Y-yes, of course.” He shook himself, rubbing under his glasses as he tried to focus. “That- that wasn’t the point, anyway. The point was that he has spoken to you, on more than one occasion. Sometimes he pretended to be me, but other times, I don’t think he did.” He turned back to his brother, still tightly holding his hand as the concern shifted between them and now Stan looked self-conscious. “He whispered to you while you slept and you’d wake up in such a panic. What did he say, Stan? What did he do in your dreams?”

Stan bit his lip for a second, his eyes glazing as if he was far away before he shook it all off, his face once again a thin sour line of, what Ford could only place as, determined denial. “Honestly? If he was talking to me in my dreams or whatever, then… I never knew, I never noticed anything different.” Ford almost felt the need to raise an eyebrow in disbelief as Stan’s face looked conflicted, as if even he wasn’t so sure anymore in his conviction. “OK, maybe not at the time, whereas thinking back now in hindsight… but really, there’s nothing he could have said that I hadn’t already thought myself on a number of occasions- heck, most were probably things I’d thought before I even got here!”

Ford shook his head, watching Stan visibly deflate at his response. “No, there has to be more to it than that. Are you sure? Are you sure he wasn’t making things worse? This creature feeds off of fear, Stan. It makes him stronger, and with you up here trying your best to get me back I’m sure he had a lot of ways to make you scared-”

“All the more reason we should stop having this conversation. I already said it, right? _We. Won_.”

“Stan…”

“Alright.” Stan barked, Ford’s mouth shutting with a snap as his brother continued in a torrent of words that he couldn’t quite seem to stop. “If he was talking to me, he sounded an awful lot like the voice in my head does anyway. So I don’t know! I don’t know if he was rooting around in here for whatever reason, all I know is that if he _was_ … I never noticed. It didn’t sound any different.”

“Oh. Oh, Stan…”

Stan winced at the pain laced whisper that left Ford’s lips as if he’d punched him in the stomach. He ran a hand through his hair, the guilt across his face evident to Ford for a mere second before he turned his back on him.

“Can we… can we just stop talking about this now? You keep saying that thing feeds on fear and recognition and quite frankly the quicker we forget about it, the better.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but when Stan turned back to him the words died on his tongue. He looked exhausted suddenly, as if the act of telling him hadn’t unburdened him but left him feeling even more weighed down by his own swirling thoughts. He gulped, hoping he hadn’t opened the floodgates of self-loathing and instead gripped Stan’s hand that was still in his, giving it another squeeze as he mused over what to say next.

It only really took a few moments to realise what he really needed to ask in that moment.

“If… if that voice starts up again- not the creature’s!” He put his hand up as Stan looked ready to snarl at him. “If your inner voice starts… to get like that again, you’ll come talk to me, won’t you? I want to help you.”

The snarl left Stan’s face, melting into wide eyed shock for a second before a bubble of laughter escaped him much to Ford’s surprise. “Yeah, alright. I’ll do that.”

“Stan.” Ford put as much authority into that word as he felt was possible, for some reason hearing their mother in the tone as Stan cringed slightly.

“Come on, Sixer. I can’t come to you whenever my thoughts turn sour- that’d be more often than not.”

“…All the more reason to.” Ford bit back on the sad pained noise that had threatened to come out at Stan’s words, instead choosing to go with what his heart said was the best thing to say as Stan looked on lost. “Stan, you- you’re amazing and you don’t seem to see it. I need you to see that. You took on an eldritch horror and won. We didn’t win- you won.” Ford pulled him close, still talking as Stan sat frozen in his arms. “But none of that even matters, _you matter_ , whether or not you did that, whether or not you got me back, you deserved a good life-” The noise of disagreement fuelled Ford ever onwards. “No, Stan, you did. The kids love you for who you are. And-” He growled, feeling Stan shake his head against his shoulder.

He couldn’t get through to him.

And suddenly it clicked, his entire body freezing for a second before relaxing as he pulled his brother even tighter around him.

“All you wanted to do was keep me safe, you never gave up on me. You just made me promise to never ask you to give up on me again, didn’t you?” Ford felt the hesitation, the quick nod that was almost a question as to where this was going. He smiled, resting his head on top of Stan’s. “Then, don’t ask me to give up on you. ‘Cause I won’t, I’m going to be here whenever you need me, no matter what from now on. We’re going to look after each other, but I can only do that if you let me.”

Stan locked up, pulling away slightly to scrutinise Ford’s expression, as if still doubtful before he burrowed back into his embrace, his arms finally moving to wrap around him in return and Ford gave a relieved sigh at the motion.

“I’ll try to talk to you more. If the voice gets too much, I’ll come talk to you.”

“That’s all I ask, Stan.” Ford gave him a pat on the back, closing his eyes as his breathing evened out. “If you ever need me, I’m right here, I don’t care how insignificant you think it might be or not worth telling me, know that I’m always here to listen.” He hummed thoughtfully as the words made him think of another time, tapping at Stan’s back to get him to look him in the eye. “If I’m honest, I’m pretty sure our lack of communication got us into quite a lot of our troubles as kids… so how about we both promise to do our best to communicate from now on? No more secrets, no more not telling the other what’s bothering us.”

Stan snorted, nodding. “Hey, I think we’re doing well. How many heart to hearts have we had since you’ve been back? I feel like we’ve had more in the last week or so than we’ve ever had before combined.”

Ford huffed out a bark of laughter back. “True. We’re doing a lot better than we ever did before.” He leant in conspiratorially even though it was only them in the vicinity. “Let’s keep that up.”

“Deal.” Stan nodded, pulling away. “But for now, can we please stop being sappy?”

Ford couldn’t help but continue to laugh as Stan shuffled away from him. “OK, OK, for now we can stop.”

“Thank God for that.” Stan dropped his hand and stood up with a stretch.

Before he could do much else though, his thoughts already back to the work he had been doing, Ford followed him up, walking past him towards the balcony door.

“Whoa, Casper, where do you think you’re going?”

Ford blinked, frowning for a second at the nickname before brushing it off. “I thought we could both use some fresh air is all. It’s a nice night, the views great-”

Stan’s hand gripped the back of his collar, tugging him back. “Yep, fair but funnily enough Mr ‘I forgot you’d be able to hear me sneaking after you’, I don’t completely trust you to remember that you can’t float about anymore.”

Ford gave an indignant squawk. “I’m fully capable of-”

“Sixer, I know you’re completely capable of moving around now, considering how you chase after the kids but how about we don’t put your legs to the test around that big a drop just yet, hey?”

Ford frowned again, his expression disappointed and hurt in a way that made Stan look away. “Well I guess you’ll have to be there besides me to make sure nothing happens then, won’t you?” He gave a smug grin as Stan sighed, hand reaching for the handle even as the hand in his collar refused to relent.

He felt more than saw Stan rub a hand over his own face, a groan of defeat echoing through the small room.

“Alright, honesty, right? That’s what we’re doing from now on, yeah?”

Ford paused in his fight to be free, turning back to Stan in interest, the change in tone from light-hearted to downtrodden knocking him off kilter. “Yeah?”

Ice found its way through Ford again within an instant, the fight leaving him in one fell swoop.

“Frankly, I don’t trust myself out there either.”

“S-Stan-”

“No, I mean- I don’t mean-” Stan groaned, his hand still pressed over his face as he sighed again. “I meant I’ve already dreamt once tonight of falling over the edge, I’m not really up for going near it right now.”

“…You dreamt of falling off the lighthouse.”

“Yeah?” Stan’s voice grew defensive at Ford’s disbelieving tone, raising an eyebrow as his arms crossed, obviously no longer worried that Ford would make a dash for it. “What’s weird about that?”

“Nothing.” Ford turned fully to him, eyebrow quirking. “What’s strange is that you had that dream and then came up here at all.”

“I… I don’t really have an argument for that.” Stan rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing back at the lantern. “Guess this place always gave me a sense of purpose. It’s a good distraction from nightmares, always has been. I kind of took a gamble.”

“You could have woken me.”

Stan winced, still refusing to look at him. “I mean, I did think about it….” He stood up straight, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath and looking earnestly at his brother.

The ice melted, a flood of warm water making Ford smile softly.

“I’ll- try to talk to you next time instead, yeah? I felt guilty waking you when I always push you to sleep more but… if you really want me to, I’ll wake you next time if I can’t go back to sleep and feel the need to come up here, or make an exhibit in the middle of the night, or something equally as distracting.”

“I’d like that.” Ford patted him on the shoulder before pulling him up beside him at the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t open it. But still, that’s a great view, isn’t it?”

He watched carefully as Stan gave in, relaxing as his eyes scanned the stars and the bright moon, as they flickered to the water now and then before a soft huff escaped him. “Yeah, I guess it is. I stopped taking it in a while back but now I’m not looking for something out there, it really is something, isn’t it?”

Ford grinned, hand wrapped around his brother’s shoulder, glad to have helped in any way he could as his brother settled beside him.

Soon enough they found themselves sitting, side by side, not out on the balcony but still gazing outwards, a soft silence filling the air that was completely companionable when the solid presence of the other was tight to their side.

It was a while later, in amongst the quiet that Ford asked a question that had been plaguing him for a while.

“Hey, Stan? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, might not answer though.”

“The night that you got me back. When you got the lighthouse working properly… what was different?”

Stan sat silent for a while, so long in fact that Ford almost thought he wouldn’t answer.

“I… I don’t know actually. I was pacing around a lot up here, trying to figure out what to do, but… I did that a lot. That wasn’t anything new. In fact the only thing was-”

Stan’s words cut off, Ford moving to look at his face as a soft small smile wormed its way on to his face. “Stan?”

Stan shook his head, leaning it against Ford’s shoulder as he shrugged. “I was just thinking about… nah, never mind. It wouldn’t have had any bearing on anything.”

“Tell me? Please?”

Stan sat up again with a sigh as Ford nudged his shoulder, scratching at his face in open vulnerability. “I dunno, I guess I was just thinking about the kids? That they were going to leave soon and how much I knew they’d love to meet you.” He glanced at Ford sheepishly, his smile still plastered on his face. “How much I wanted you to meet them before they left because they’re just so-” His hands gestured uselessly, trying his hardest to come up with an all-encompassing word for them.

Ford laughed, nodding along with him. “They really are something.”

“Bright? They’re just so – them.” Stan grumbled under his breath for his lack of eloquence before continuing. “So, anyway, yeah, that’s all that was different. I was up here looking out to sea, thinking about how soon they’d be gone and how much they needed to meet you. I kept thinking about how you’d said goodbye to me and how that couldn’t be the end, I _refused_ to let it end like that because those kids deserved to meet you as much as you deserved to meet them. How nothing else mattered as long as you were safe and sound and you got to know your family like you always should have- and on it came.”

Ford sat quietly for a few moments, letting the words sink in as Stan shifted beside him, filling in the silence himself awkwardly.

“So yeah, when I say we won- I have no idea what caused the light to turn on. I’m just glad something out there likes us enough to give me the chance to get you back, Sixer.”

“You won.” The words came out automatically, but luckily Ford knew how to continue as Stan got ready to dispute it. “From what you just said, I’d say you got me back through force of willpower and determination. And even if I’m wrong, it was still you who dived off a ship and rescued me. It’s still _you_ who did all of that, not some light.”

“… If you say so. I still don’t think it was all me.”

“Well, I’ve got a lot of years ahead of me to make you see sense.”

Stan looked over at him, trying to hold back his hopeful expression. “I’ll drink to you being around from now on, that’s for sure.”

Ford leant back against him, feeling an arm wrap around his shoulder. “Heh, you’ll never get rid of me even if you tried.”

They fell back on to easier conversations, light hearted and warm now from that particular open discussion. The thought of the kids, how the thought of them had driven Stan on, felt like a warm beacon for both of them to latch on to, wondering what the next day would bring once they awoke and dragged them along to the next big adventure.

On that note, Ford found himself drifting once again, only this time he could feel Stan doing the same, both of them slowly becoming more lethargic and unwilling to move with every moment that passed. He knew though that if they weren’t careful though that soon the sun would start to dust the horizon and falling asleep up here would one, do a number on them both muscle wise, and two, scare the kids if they woke up and couldn’t find them in the house.

He struggled upwards, feeling Stan groan beside him but move as well, understanding thick in his every movement even if he refused to open his eyes. Ford shook his head in amusement, eyes skating across the still navy horizon where the sky hit the water and tried to think of something to say that would get them both moving back to at least the sofa where the kids were bundled up, if not to their own beds.

Instead however, in the sleepy haze, his words jumbled into something far off topic that he hadn’t even known whether to ever broach. His eyes followed the crest and fall of the waves, the silver foam derailing his thoughts entirely from the momentum he had been following.

His filter vanished with the lack of sleep, not quite awake until the words were out of his mouth and Stan’s body language changed entirely.

“Hey Stan, would you still like to go sailing together?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: 8D I hope this explains a few more bits and pieces ♥ On the final stretch! Stan talking about the kids and how he thought of them when the light came on properly was one of those flaily scenes I’ve been dying to share.


	15. The Lighthouse Keeper's Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale is here!!! Ahh this story comes to a close and I enjoyed every second of it!

“ _Hey Stan, would you still like to go sailing together_?”

Stan woke up within an instant. For a second he had thought he’d heard… but he couldn’t have. It felt like he’d heard the words through a fog, like the light should have been flickering on behind him and he could hear the wisps again, trying to cut deep into his core, wound him in ways he hadn’t thought he could still get hurt.

For a second his heart beat painfully against his ribs, the blink of a small sail boat with a lone figure out on the deck glued to the back of his eyelids and the stale bitter tang of betrayal and disappointment sitting on the back of his throat.

And then it was gone again. His brother sat beside him, instead of out on the waves without him. It hurt, it always had hurt but it was in the past where it should firmly stay. After all, he had his brother back now, they were finally talking again. They had both done things they regretted in the past, he wasn’t going to bring it up. Wasn’t going to ask-  _How? Why? How could you stand- No_. He gulped down the bitterness, shaking his head at the words as if they were a memory from another time, waking himself up further in the process.

He rolled his shoulders, yawning as he turned to Ford, fully intending to ignore the weird thought that had popped into his head before he froze at the look on his brother’s face. He looked thoughtful, half asleep, but definitely thoughtful and intrigued. It was a look that used to amuse Stan, that gleam to his eye that appeared whenever his brother was deep in thought, the possibilities buzzing. It had been a look that didn’t come out with school work, as much as Ford was good at it all, it never really held his attention for longer than he needed to do it.

No, it was his own projects outside of school that garnered that look. Each filled with complex details Stan couldn’t grasp but still he was happy to listen because his brother would get so excited at an audience and Stan knew deep down that Ford at least tried to explain in ways that would interest Stan enough to keep his attention.

And if not his projects, then  _their_  project.

…The Stan’O’War.

That was when Stan was really happy to see that look, the one that now seemed so reminiscent of so many years ago. When the pair of them had stood on the beach and looked out to sea and he knew his brother had been just as ready to leave as he was. There was so much to do, so much to explore and they were going to do it together-

But that was then, when the sea was inviting and full of promise and this was now.

Now he was just a bitter old man who had lost far too much to the waves to want to let anyone he loved near them again.

His eyes followed Ford’s gaze to the foamy seas, his own thoughts more disgusted as his eyes skimmed the waters. It had been the bane of his existence for so long, that that dream of his had been well and truly ripped to shreds by the undertow.

He turned to his brother again, with what he could only imagine was abject horror on his face.

“Please tell me I didn’t hear you say what I think you just said.”

Ford blinked awake beside him, turning to him with a puzzled expression and for a second he breathed a sigh of relief. An apology sat on his tongue, an excuse that he must have fallen asleep, sorry, ignore him, ready to unleash as soon as Ford asked what he was talking about.

But the words died, slipping back down his throat to stop him saying anything at all as Ford studied him intently, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, though there was an apologetic aura to his body language as he reached out a hand and gripped Stan’s knee. He hadn’t even noticed that his back had gone ramrod straight, that his entire body had locked up when Ford didn’t instantly brush away his worries and let him know everything was OK.

“Stan? Stan, what’s wrong? I only asked…” Ford didn’t finish the sentence, worry and concern overflowing as Stan shook his head.

“No, you can’t be serious.” Stan took a deep breath, staring over at Ford, trying to shake the feeling of impending doom. “Sorry, I must have misheard the question. Shoot, Sixer. Cause right now I’m really hoping that I was asleep and translated the question wrong.”

“Alright.” Ford gave an apprehensive smile, giving Stan’s knee another squeeze as he relaxed. “You worried me for a second there, I wondered what had happened.” He felt San relax as well and gave a small sigh of relief. “That’s it. Sorry for spooking you, probably shouldn’t have whispered anything up here, what with- A-anyway.” He coughed awkwardly, glancing back out to sea, feeling Stan’s eyes on him. There was that small thrill still as his eyes scanned the horizon, that ever present gleam that there was so much to do, so much to explore and learn if only they could get there. He knew, of course he knew, that that insatiable yearning for knowledge and curiosity had got him into this mess in the first place but now his brother was with him again and he felt like a kid again. Like they were sat on the beach, watching the world go by and making big plans together.

He’d thrown himself into research when his brother had been kicked out, anything to not think about anything else. He’d stopped thinking all together about a lot of things – self-destructive, his self-preservation had almost deserted him. He knew that now. Knew that he’d just stopped caring as long as he could solve the next big puzzle thrown in front of him.

He knew now that going off alone, whether on sea or on land, was a bad choice. He just couldn’t trust himself to not get lost within his own head.

Plus he didn’t want to be alone anymore. And he didn’t want to leave his family, they all meant more to him than research ever could.

For the first time in a very long time, not even counting the years below the waves, he finally felt like his thought processes were a little bit  _healthier_  in his attitude to looking after himself.

Sure he teased Stan relentlessly about needing sleep but… he just couldn’t resist.

In reality he did know that he needed to sleep to be able to spend time with them all, and he really was trying to.

And so now, sat beside his brother, the early morning rays painting the horizon pink, his thoughts had gone back to what they’d always planned. Not just for research, but because it had always been what they both wanted. His brother was an adventurer at heart, he should never have been stuck in the same place for 30 years, it didn’t suit him. They should have been out, solving mysteries, fighting monsters, the two of them against the world like they’d always said they were going to be.

He wanted to go adventuring with him, wanted to use what time they had left to chase the waves and go wherever the wind took them. Safe in the knowledge that when they returned there’d be people waiting for them, to stop them from going overboard at any point.

A place to call home.

A safety net to make sure neither of them forgot there were people who cared and who they cared about, who they needed to see again.

All the feelings, all the possibilities and wonders of the world were catching up with him on that sleepy warm morning. Everything that he had locked away, deep below his anger and all that bitter resentment after their argument, after Stan was kicked out. Anything good that had been connected to Stanley, all of it, he had pushed as far away as he could because thinking of it brought a wave of sadness that he couldn’t deal with. His anger had been easy, it had given him a drive, given him a route to run down, scorching the earth as he did, but the sadness had always taken that from him, left him lost and painfully alone and wondering where exactly he was running too.

Now, safe in the knowledge that it had all been an accident, that if they’d just spoken, communicated, maybe none of this would ever have happened, those old dreams had reignited. It was all there ready for them, ready for the taking, if only they were ready to go out there and take it.

Wasn’t that what Stan had always wanted too?

The adventure of a lifetime?

Any hesitance that he had had at Stan’s sudden panic vanished out of the window and scattered on the wind. Stan hadn’t heard him properly, that was all, he’d whispered it in a place where Stan was used to hearing whispers while they were both half asleep and it had gotten distorted along the way.

Of course, Stan would be ready to finally go on that trip they’d always said they would.

He should still ask though, that was how it worked, right?

Even if he knew they both wanted it, he still needed to make sure.

Stan probably just hadn’t gotten round to asking him yet.

“What I asked was, whether you’d still like to go sailing? What was it… ‘Ready to sail around the world on the adventure of a lifetime’?”

“No.”

Ford hummed, frowning as his eyes stayed locked on the water. “No? It wasn’t that? Huh, I felt sure you’d said that before when we were kids…”

“No, as in  _no_ , Sixer.”

Ford tilted his head, finally turning back to Stan as his face warred between guilt and panic. He felt like a wave had hit him head on and knocked him over, unable to fathom why Stan looked quite so out of sorts, his muscles once again tense and his face refusing to look out of the glass in front of them. “No, what?”

Stan growled, irritation bleeding in through the shamefaced expression. “Ford, this is a joke, right? You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? I just can’t figure out why…”

Ford shook his head, a small pained sound escaping Stan at the motion that made Ford feel even more lost. “What? Why would I joke about-” An inkling hit him then, his face turning serious as he straightened his back and turned properly to his brother. “Stan, you don’t still think I don’t want you around, do you? Is that it? I thought we’d been over all this. I want to spend time with you and the kids, I want to do what we always dreamt of doing! Us against the world, chasing the waves- international treasure hunters.” He grinned brightly, trying to coax out a smile from his brother. “I need you by my side to do that, no use being a treasure hunter alone- we’ve seen where that leads me. So, let’s go! Let’s do it! Let’s sail around the world and explore-”

Stan’s voice cut through his like a knife, echoing around the small enclosed room like a maelstrom.

“What part of  _No_  don’t you understand?! Why on  _earth_  would I ever want to go near the sea after it- after you- after  _everything_?”

Stan was up on his feet before Ford could even register that he’d stopped talking. The words were spinning around in his head, they made perfect sense and yet at the same time none of them registered enough for him to stop digging himself deeper and deeper as he turned to face his brother. “But you always wanted to.”

Stan let out a squawk of disbelief, pacing around the lantern in a nauseating circle for his twin, obviously needing somewhere to walk in the limited space. “Maybe I did! So what? You don’t think things change?” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “You still _do_?”  

Ford somehow managed to look affronted, adding to Stan’s ire. “Yes, I thought I was making that obvious.” He shuffled further round to face Stan properly. “Look Stan, we’re not getting any younger. I’ve spent years down there, I want to live  _now_. And part of that is doing what we always said we would! I want to adventure with my brother like we always dreamed. Has it really gone? All of it?”

A small bubble of hope blossomed as Stan turned his head away from him, looking past his shoulder and out to sea, a soft wistful expression on his face as he huffed out a laugh. “Oh wow, Sixer. If you’d asked me before all of this, that night when I came down here… I’d have jumped at the chance. Us two off on an adventure together again…” His expression soured, disgust and bitterness taking over as he continued to stare at the waves, the warm hope popping to fragments of ice as Ford finally understood. “But then it took you away from me.” He locked eyes with Ford, freezing him in his place. “I’ve spent thirty years next to this… unforgiving bay. Thirty years of wondering if I’d ever get you back, of never knowing exactly what happened to you. You think that just vanished now you’re back? That I’d want to go anywhere near it and let it take you away from us again? We just got you back, Sixer, I don’t want to-”

_I don’t want to lose you again._

He didn’t have to finish the choked off sentence for Ford to get it.

“S-Stan. That wasn’t-” Ford stood up, letting out the half cut off sentence in a deep sigh. He didn’t want an argument but here they were, with him knowing he was entirely in the wrong for making assumptions, for not getting it. He hadn’t had to live it, he’d been asleep for the most part. Stan would say otherwise, he knew. That the nightmares and what the creature had done to him was far worse than the waiting that Stan had had, but to Ford they were unique experiences. Both painful, both hard, and they had both left them with scars.

Ford wanted to live with the time that he had, it was precious. He needed to push 30 years of sleep into what time he had left and do everything he had ever wanted to do, everything he needed to do.

Stan just wanted to rest. He wanted to protect them all. As long as they were all safe, nothing else mattered.

But they couldn’t always be safe, they needed to live. It almost pained Ford to see how much his brother had changed in that moment. All that gutsy bravado striped away to see the worried old man beneath who just wanted them safe and sound.

Any other time, when it wasn’t Ford that was the issue, he knew he would jump into the fray. But he’d become careful, taken a step back.

He wasn’t about to jump into a fight when there was no need for one, which was what Ford was suggesting. It had taken that long for him to realise that fact. As far as Stan was concerned, Ford had grown more foolhardy. At any other moment Ford might have been proud for Stan’s reckless nature having taken a back seat.

Only he couldn’t be, not in this instance.

Stan had forgotten what wonders the sea held. Forgotten the late night whispered conversations when they were meant to asleep and the excited chattering as the sun set and bathed the Stan’O’War in reds and gold. Forgotten the gleam of treasures, the thrill of discovering things no one else had laid eyes on in centuries. Forgotten the songs and the shanties of the mystical creatures they had both been excited to find.

Now he only saw the monsters.

Now he only saw the darkness.

And Ford ached in the knowledge that he had caused that.

Until just as before, the anger bubbled up, fierce and scalding as a yellow eye flickered when he closed his eyes.

_He did this._

“Stan.” Ford took a step forward, arms outstretched but Stan took one back, eyes narrowing and suspicious as he waited for Ford to continue. “Stan, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking.” He waited patiently as Stan gave a shuddering nod, still tense but at least willing to listen by the looks of it. “But that’s not- that’s not the sea that did that! That was that thing down there.” Ford pointed, ignoring the ironic look and the derisive snort his brother gave as he pointed at the water. “Maybe he is in the sea but that’s not the seas fault, there’s any number of fascinating, brilliant creatures to outnumber that thing!”

“But that’s the point, Sixer!”

Ford’s mouth snapped shut, a myriad of excuses and thoughts clawing up his throat to escape but he’d let Stan have his say.

If he really didn’t want this, he wouldn’t make him, but he needed to know if that was the case, needed to know there really was no hope, that Stan no longer dreamed of the adventure at all before he gave up.

Stan gestured out along with him. “You think that’s the only- whatever it is- out there? Really? Just the one? That sea is teeming with them! I know my stories are lies and old wives tales so that people respect the sea more- but I also know that some of them are true. Enough of them are true. I can’t lose you again, Sixer! I almost thought I’d lost the kids as well to that god awful water and I couldn’t- I didn’t mean to scare them but-” The words came out in a choke of fear and Ford could see how much he hated that he had shown that vulnerability to him. He turned away, scrubbing down his face and Ford couldn’t help but reach out, rub his shoulder in way of apology. Stan groaned, a deep sad sound as if he couldn’t convey what he needed to with words then and just needed Ford to know what this conversation was doing to him.

Ford did. A sinking horrible guilt making a soft noise bubble out in response to try and comfort him.

“I just don’t get it, Sixer. I don’t get how you could want to go back out there. After what happened to you last time.”

“Well last time I was all alone and listening to voices that I shouldn’t.” Ford tried to make light of it all, add some humour though the look he got in return made him know it had fallen short.

Dawn had broken over the tree line, and yet somehow the room felt colder than it had all night.

“Yeah. Fantastic, that logic’s going to get you far, nerd. ‘Let’s go back out on the sea so another horror from the deep can trick me again’.”

“Last time I didn’t have you to make sure I had some common sense.”

“Last time? And whose fault was tha-” Stan bit his tongue, eyes instantly flashing with regret but Ford didn’t say a word when he’d brought this on himself. He waited patiently as Stan stood up and away, letting his hand drop from him as he turned to face him, eyes stern and determined.

“You want some common sense, Ford? We’re. Not. Doing. It. How about that?” Stan took a deep breath as if willing himself to calm down. “I am not going out on the water and I’ll be damned if I let yo-”

Stan stopped his tirade, head snapping to the side as he flinched away from the glass.

Ford jumped forward to greet him, concern overriding everything else. “Stan? Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, just the wind.”

Ford frowned, listening intently but he couldn’t hear anything. His eyes stayed fixed to Stan who still seemed perturbed, his expression flitting between worry and that ever present fearful anger that he might do something stupid. “Stan, I can’t hear anything.”

“It’s nothing, where… where were we?”

“ _Stan_.” Ford warned, his tone broaching no arguments as he stared heatedly at him. “It’s obviously not nothing, stop trying to hide things.”

“Hide things? I’m being completely honest with you about this entire argument.” Stan dusted himself off before giving him a grouchy sour expression, one that was at least more natural than that awful fear that had been dancing across his eyes. “I just- that nightmares still got me all jumpy, alright? Happy?”

“No.” Ford sighed, patting Stan’s shoulder comfortingly. “Of course I’m not happy that you’ve had nightmares or that we’re arguing or-”

Stan deflated, his voice quietening as he interrupted Ford once more. He took it as a win even if the voice sounded sadder than it had all night. “This isn’t an argument, Sixer. I don’t want to argue with you. I just- the sea isn’t what we thought it was as kids, alright? It was all just wishful thinking. You think that boat would have survived long enough to get us anywhere? Creatures or not it would have fallen apart before we even lost sight of the shore.” Stan’s voice and eyes turned plaintive, pleading with Ford to stop this nonsense. “Do you know how many storms have taken people here, Ford? This little fishing town is filled with them. You think Wendy would have been that angry at me if it wasn’t because we all know what it can do? One bad storm and that’s it.”

“But they still go out there.”

“They have to! It’s their livelihoods, their skills are all based around the water!” Stan gripped at his hair, obviously struggling to get the words out. “It’s… a necessary evil! One that we don’t need in our lives anymore.”

“But it’s not just that!” Ford knew his voice was rising as Stan flinched away from him and in that moment the fight left him. He wasn’t going to force this, it wasn’t worth the way Stan was backing away from him. He regulated his tone, giving it one last shot, one that even he knew was a low one. “Do you not… want to go adventuring with me?”

From the noise that left Stan he might as well have punched him in the stomach. Maybe it would have hurt less. “Of course I do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just us two against the world.” A soft smile graced his lips, the first one Ford had seen since the conversation had started. “And two kids who’d love to join in whenever they got the chance. I’ve had some adventures with them over the summer, let me tell you.”

“You have.” Ford’s own mouth curled upwards, a small light at the end of the tunnel that maybe he was getting somewhere. “And we can still. It’s all right there for the taking, if only you could see that.”

Stan rubbed at his eyes, a bubble of dark laughter escaping him. “Oh, it’s me, is it? Me that has to see that? Ford, you’re the one that doesn’t seem to get it that we can still do that. We can go off and travel, go anywhere we want- why do we have to sail to do that?”

“You want to go on a road trip with me?” Ford raised an eyebrow, glad there was at least some humour in the conversation even if his heart disagreed with Stan. The logical part of his brain  was having a moment of utter perplexity that he hadn’t thought of that, but his heart knew that there was something about the mystery of the sea that still beckoned him in. “You’d kill me within a day or two in that tight a space.”

Stan snorted. “You say that as if I wouldn’t strangle you on a boat within a week.”

Ford let out a chuckle, the words holding no bite. “I dunno, you seem to be doing alright up in here and this room is tiny.”

“Yeah well, if we’re stuck in here any longer with this conversation I might punch you.” Stan gave him a long suffering look that Ford could only shrug at.

“Sorry, I just thought you might still…” He looked away, out to sea, the words stuck in his throat as he tried to will up some way of explaining himself. “I get what you mean. Who cares how we get there as long as get there, right? But… there was always something about sailing away that really grabbed us, wasn’t there?”

Stan paused for a moment, following his gaze again to the crystal clear waters and the vast blue that stretched as far as the eye could see. It had never seemed daunting as a kid, just this breath-taking view, so close and so far that could take them away from New Jersey. “Yeah… yeah it did.”

Ford almost didn’t want to break the moment. Stan’s expression had grown nostalgic, that sparkle that his eyes used to hold when he looked at the Stan’O’War deep within the gaze. “Then… will you at least think about it?”

Stan’s eyes darted back to Ford, watching him like a hawk, scrutinising him as he debated on an answer before letting all the air out of his lungs in defeat.

“Fine. I’ll think about it. Don’t expect my answer to change though.”

“As long as you think about it, that’s all I ask.”

 

* * *

 

“…What on Earth does he see in you?”

Stan stood in the early morning sun, dawn filtering through the trees behind him. He shuddered as another wave broke along the shore, the fine spray seeping past his layers and making him glower darkly downwards at his own shadow, rippling and twisting at the water’s edge. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, hunching his back, his shoulders high around his ears as he tried to ignore the whispering crash and draw of the waves, the constant ever present sound of the ocean pushing and pulling the pebbles across the beach. His efforts only seemed to make it louder though, as if using his shoulders as a windbreak had had the same effect as putting a shell to his ear, the sound surging up to meet him until he was sure the waves would drown him on dry land.

Or at the very least deafen him.

That almost sounded like the better option.

He huffed quietly to himself, relaxing as his thoughts dragged him out of his spiral. If he never had to hear the waves again, if he never had to taste the tang of salt on the air or smell that godawful stench of brine and fish when the ships made harbour… well, that sounded like a dream come true.

He hated it, hated everything about it. The cold, the wet, the taste, the smell.

The sight of it.

And yet… he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

He glared again at the water, the dazzling turquoise and gold, the sun’s rays hitting the mirrored surface and casting a glittering rippling reflection towards him. Tantalising, breath-taking, reminding him of everything he’d lost, everything he’d ever dreamed of. It sunk its claws into that painful, desperate hope that had been crushed all those years ago when he had been forced to leave his home, his family and that dream behind. Pierced the armour that he had encased it in and let the feeling bleed out and bubble to the surface.

The water called to him plaintively. Beseechingly.

_Join us…_

He had everything now. He had a family. His two bright sparks were set to go home, he no longer had to worry for their safety in his care. His brother was in the house, still asleep but alive and warm and breathing. Not only that, he wanted this. He was the one that had dragged these thoughts back to the forefront. Had been the first chink in the shell, weakening it for his own mind to fill in the blanks and get the heart of the dream beating once more. He could feel the sun warming him to his core, optimistic and hopeful as it pulled him in. His eyes softened, losing their sharp edge, as they followed the blue waves all the way to the horizon and back again, drifting up and down with their ebb and flow.

A small boat caught his attention, dragging his gaze away from the waves as he felt himself slip into a peaceful daze. He drank in the details, the bright white sail, the glistening metal and dazzling paint casting shadows on the water. Sleek and strong and ready to take on the tides.

A small smile slipped across his face as the boat turned, dark black lettering becoming visible as he watched it from his spot.

“Stan’O’War… no, the Stan’O’War II.” The smile crinkled up further as he continued to imagine, to dream up the perfect boat bobbing on peaceful waters.

For just a second the rational, pragmatic part of his brain tried to stop the musings short but the dream pushed past, bright and scalding and refusing to back down.

He’d scrimped and saved for years. He’d done everything to keep the house, to pay off the debts, to keep the lighthouse in working order wherever possible, to make sure Ford needn’t worry once he returned.

They had the funds. If they were doing this, it had to be  _perfect_.

He wondered where it would go first. What exotic warm places they would find. White sandy beaches bedecked with shells. Unexplored islands and deep forests with foliage the sun could only scatter through, littering the floor in a dappled path.

Old rotten chests filled with glittering gems and shiny gold pieces. Cryptic clues and weather aged maps leading to long lost treasures.

Birds covered in an array of coloured feathers, fish skimming the foam with shimmering scales.

The full expanse of the open water around them, the turquoise, tantalising, glittering jewel that would be their home and the open blue sky above.

The full array of stars in all their glorious constellations when the sun went down and the moon turned the waters black and silver, the pinprick stars reflected in the dark waters as he leant over the railing.

Monsters staring back at him from the dark below the surface. Poisonous glowing yellow eyes and sharp needled fangs twisted in a grin, glistening in the moonlight.

Stan flinched back, blinking away the image. The boat vanished with every flutter, the sun leaving twisted mangled shapes behind his eyelids.

“ _No_. No, what am I thinking?”

His face turned sour, a bitter taste slipping down his throat and sinking the dream to the pit of his stomach. Fear bit cold as another gust of wind blew off the sea, the blue open expanse of sky mocking him, making him doubt the sun had really had chance to warm him or the beach yet at all.

It was all a trick, all a mirage. That was all it ever had been.

A hopeless dream.

_But-_

“No.” Stan snarled, the sound bursting out of him in a boom of energy.

He’d done so much, he’d worked so hard to be stood here. He’d strived and strived to reach his goal, to pull his brother back from the depths. Night after night, day after day. Wherever and whenever he could he had worked tirelessly.

And his efforts had paid off.

Was he going to throw that all away? So they could follow some childish dream that had never stood a chance?

Could he really put them both in that position? Let them try and fail and start the entire process all over again?

All for the hope that maybe this time- this time it would turn out OK?

That just this once they could have everything they ever dreamed of?

 _Real life doesn’t work that way_.

His scowl deepened, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned his back on the water and started the long walk back to the shack before anyone else woke up.

Goals could be reached, but impossible dreams always stayed impossible. And he would not risk it all again.

He wouldn’t be able to live through losing him again, he knew it.

And if he was the one to give the OK, to let that dream fester and grow in Ford until it couldn’t be ignored- it would be his fault and his alone when everything fell around their ears once more.

He’d never forgive himself.

The sea continued to fool him, to trick him. He couldn’t believe he’d almost let himself wonder what it would be like, almost let the dream bubble up through him and eclipse common sense.

Ford would just have to live with it.

There were other ways. They could go explore the world by road, by air, never setting foot on the open water.

No matter how much it called to them both. Called to his heart, seeped into his pores. He tried to ignore the sun on his back as he traversed the steps, his mind on car journeys and the open road. Pulling up at gas stations, liminal spaces in the dead of night that gave the mysterious vibe his brother longed for as they grabbed supplies and asked whoever was there if they had seen anything out of the ordinary- which would be more often than not in places like those. Songs fizzling softly through an old radio as he hummed along, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. The scratching sound of a pen as his brother scribbled away in the passenger seat, glancing up to smile as he sang along under his breath without realising to keep himself awake.

But it all sounded flat even to his own ears, the images grey, dull and lifeless. He tried to drum up the intrigue, drum up the feeling of adventure, the gleam that the ocean held but the roads were filled with dust and sand, the sun baking and burning the images to a painful white or covered by thick clouds that refused to show the scenes in all their glory.

And worst of all, the image of his brother smiling grew sad and wistful whenever Stan stopped looking at him head on, when he thought he was no longer looking at all.

 _Why_? His fists tightened at his sides as he stopped on the steps up, wanting more than anything to punch something.  _Why can’t I imagine us adventuring the same way?_

 _Why does it have to be the sea?_  
It’s not fair. I don’t want it, I hate it. I hate everything about it. I don’t want to think about it, to debate it.  
The answer should be simple. Logical even. Why can’t Ford see that?   
…Why can’t I?

“I can.” Stan didn’t even know he’d been holding his breath until it hissed out of him. “That’s the problem. All I’ve ever wanted was to go on an adventure with my bro, the sea just got all jumbled up in that.” He scrubbed at his face, letting the words pour out of him. Saying them out loud made them real, made them stop swirling in a vicious cycle in his head. “But even though I want to, I know deep down we can’t. I can’t- it’s not an option.” The words began to stutter, his heart beating fast.

_It’s too much. I’m terrified. I can’t lose him again, not now, not so soon._

And the one thought that he wouldn’t even admit to himself that laced all of it, and flashed into his dreams to startle him awake was the image of Ford, disappointed with his answer.

The panicked nightmares that his brother would leave without him-  _again_. Would say that he understood but that he couldn’t stay on land with him and no matter what Stan did, he’d always slip away. Like sand through his fingers, he’d blink and there he’d be, out on the water in the dead of night and the water would bubble and hiss and drag him back down to the ocean floor and nothing he did could prevent it.

He could never do anything right. Whatever answer he chose led to disaster, every turn, every offshoot always led to the same fate.

That cackling laugh, the beady yellow lights below the water, and his brother once again somewhere he couldn’t follow.

And no matter what happened, it all connected to the sea.

The sea would be his ruin. The risks were just too large for him to take the plunge.

_You can persuade him, persuade him to stay.  
You’ll think of something._

Stan nodded to himself, opening his eyes as he continued to walk towards the Shack, the lighthouse tall and imposing behind it.

And in that moment his eyes grew wide, his steps faltering for a moment until the momentum of his thoughts kept him moving upwards, onwards.

He couldn’t leave. It didn’t matter if he wanted to or not.

That monster- that  _thing_  was still out there.

What kind of person would he be if he abandoned the gateway that kept him locked down there? If he just left the lighthouse with no one to man it, left them with absolutely no clue how to keep the light from ever returning?

Even now he didn’t understand how he’d turned it on, didn’t know how to make sure it never flickered on again.

And that was his job. He’d accidentally become the lighthouse keeper.

His duty hadn’t ended yet.

Ford would understand that, wouldn’t he?

Making sure no one ever fell for the same tricks they did?

Making sure that creature never saw the light of day, never escaped the prison that held it.

Ford could help him figure out the lighthouse once and for all. Wasn’t that the biggest mystery out there? One worth exploring more than anything else?

“Mr Pines? Mr Pines!”

Stan jumped out of his reverie, too in his own little world to notice anything around him until Soos was stood less than a meter ahead of him. He flinched, hand clutching at his chest, his heart beating a painful tune on his ribcage as he bent down low, thoughts instantly distracted. “Christ, Soos, a little more warning next time.”

“Sorry, Mr Pines, I did call out to you a few times but you seemed to be thinking extra hard.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was.” Stan coughed, straightening up, gaze irritated and put out by the interruption, though he couldn’t stay mad at the apologetic look on the boy’s face. “What are you doing here, kid? It’s hours til we open.”

Soos blinked a few times as if he’d forgotten himself before a bright smile overtook him. “Oh! There was a meeting in town last night and I wanted to let you know as soon as I could.”

“Yeah? It couldn’t wait? I’m kind of busy.”

“Oh.”

Stan sighed, his brush off attempts making his heart sink at the dejected noise behind his back. He didn’t need to look to know what expression was on Soos’s face. “Oh- alright. You twisted my arm. What’s so important?”

“No, you’re right. It can wait until my shift.”

Stan growled, turning back to him and gesturing for him to continue. “Nah, you’re here now. Might as well hear you out.”

He tried to ignore how the guilt eased as soon as Soos beamed at him.

“Thanks, Mr Pines! Well, you see- we had a town meeting last night, an emergency one. They’d decided to leave it until it was clear that everyone was alright before- anyway.” Soos seemed to trip over his words but Stan waited patiently, not wanting to slow the process down by asking questions or trying to hurry him. “After you and the other Mr Pines almost got stuck in that storm-”

“Really? You had a meeting about that? I got us out of there, didn’t I?” Stan couldn’t help the interruption, indignation making his words sharper than intended.

“Yeah! I told them that! But the point wasn’t that you did, but how they could have helped more.” Soos’s eyes flickered to the lighthouse. “How a light would have helped more.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah well, you know all about that light and why it shouldn’t ever be allowed on- hell, I think you knew long before recent events.”

“Of course! Abuelita’s always told me stories, she said they’ve been passed down through the generations.” Soos puffed up, a smirk worming on to Stan’s face at the sight. “You should have seen Wendy’s face when I told her my theories had been right all along.”

Stan snorted. “I bet. All those times we…” He sighed then, his hand going behind his head as he grimaced. “Listen, I am sorry, Soos. There were a lot of times I knew you were right about that old lighthouse but I… I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop, not when-”

“Not when the other Mr Pines was down there, I get you.”

Stan huffed. “You know, Sixer has asked you to call him Ford.”

Soos winced. “Yeah, right- I am trying, but that’s gonna take a while.”

Stan shrugged him off. “I know, I know. But back on topic-” His gaze turned suspicious, worried even as he eyed Soos. “This meeting- you did tell them why we can’t have that light on, right?”

“I didn’t have to!” Soos shook off the nerves, smiling brightly. “They’ve seen how that old lights flickered over the years. I mean, everyone knows, or at least thinks they know, you never went up there so they think all the equipment up there’s a lost cause. Plus what with all the ghost stories you’ve told over the years, no one volunteered to go near the thing.” He turned, shielding his eyes as he looked across the small town. “They’re thinking of building a new lighthouse. Over on the other side of the bay. A proper working one, not just a novelty. That way we have light and you can still keep the Mystery Shack open, or- you know, take a break what with your brother being back and all.”

Stan hummed, thoughts ticking over slightly. The hope had returned, peeking its head up through his ribcage, though he had yet to notice it himself yet.

His words ran away with him though.

“Yeah, a break might be in order. There’s a lot of lost time there we need to make up for.”

Soos nodded understandingly. “Yeah, everyone thought as much. You risked your life and almost lost your bro’s as far as they’re concerned. They want to make sure you take it easy.”

“Oi!” Stan huffed at him, hands on his hips. “Soon enough you’ll be calling me an old timer like Windy does.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that it? Was she there yesterday?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Soos looked away from him, obviously lying.

Stan sniffed, turning his head away. “You two little traitors, I’m not that old.”

Soos only hummed, his face innocent though Stan saw straight through him. His face soon turned serious though. “So, how’s other Mr Pines doing?”

Stan’s thoughts shifted, smiling away as he thought of his brother’s progress. “He’s doing great! He’s up and about and raring to go. The old nerd wants to get back to his research. Go out on an adventure like we always planned-” He coughed, his earlier thoughts of sailing manifesting again. “So, I’m thinking a road trip might be in order. Us two on the open road, getting to know each other again.”

“What about the Mystery Shack?”

Stan blinked, Soos trying to hide the sadness but failing miserably. He smiled sadly, understandingly. “Well, it’ll always be here when we return. Heck, I’ll charge a fortune when I get back with a whole new bunch of tales. Make exclusive one of a kind tours.” He winked playfully. “Don’t worry, old employees will get a discount.” He felt his heart sink though as his own words tripped him over. “Though, I mean, I could always use a caretaker, you know. To make sure that no one goes near the lighthouse and whatnot… if you’d want the job, that is.”

Soos’s face shifted guiltily, his feet kicking at the floor as he looked away. “A-actually.” He gulped before straightening his back, hope glistening in his eyes as he stood tall in front of Stan. “As I was always your assistant, the townspeople thought if you didn’t want the job as the new Lighthouse Keeper then… the job was there if I wanted it.” He deflated suddenly, worry blossoming across his face. “I-I mean, if you think that’s a good idea. I’d still look after your house! Of course! I’m still your handyman first and foremost.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, you were the Apprentice Lighthouse Keeper first and foremost.” Stan could feel pride warming up his chest, all plans and thoughts of the future put aside as he looked at the young man ahead of him, once more standing tall in his gaze. The boy had been with him for years when no one else had, the family he had accidentally made for himself, a bond he had tried to pretend didn’t exist. “Looks like you’ll finally be getting that promotion I always promised you.”

“You don’t want the job-”

“Nah, I said, didn’t I? I’m having a break from it all. Besides-” He stretched, giving the boy an appraising look flippantly. “I only ever posed as a Lighthouse Keeper, now didn’t I? You’re young, you can learn all the ropes with a new-fangled light. Can you imagine this old dog trying to learn new tricks?” His smile turned ironic, more thoughtfully and glowing with pride that made Soos puff out under the scrutiny. “Look at you. You’re already doing better than me. You’re gonna be a proper Keeper.”

Soos deflated slightly, a frown marring his features. “You were a  _proper_  Keeper.”

Stan snorted, looking down at himself. “Kid, I might wear the uniform but you know full well the only reason I worked on that light was to get Sixer home.”

Soos shook his head fervently. “No. You kept everyone safe. That’s the job of a Lighthouse Keeper, isn’t it?”

Stan raised an eyebrow at him, glancing at himself once more. “Kid, I don’t know what you think you saw over the years but I can tell you that you’re wrong there.”

“Is the whole town wrong, then?” Soos smirked as Stan’s mouth snapped shut with a confused tilt. “I’ve got big shoes to fill, but I’ll make you proud, Mr Pines.”

“I’m sure you will.” Stan muttered, coughing slightly as the sappy words left him. “Right, off with you. Go celebrate with your Abuelita or that girl you keep telling me about or something.” He shooed him away, trying to be gruff. “Go on, quick before I change my mind and make you work longer hours today just because you’re here.”

“But-”

Stan pushed at Soos’s back. “You’ve got a lot of training ahead of you, kid, you won’t be able to celebrate later. And remember- I’ll be trusting you to make sure to keep the tales alive. Make sure no one goes near this old lighthouse.”

Soos stumbled forward, thrumming with excitement. “I’ll do my best, Mr Pines!”

“I know, I know- now get going already.”

“Thanks, Mr Pines. I’ll be back though- as you said I need training, and the best teacher available is here.”

“Heh, yeah right. If I gave you lessons, kid, it would be coming out of your pay check.”

“Deal! Let me know when would be best tomorrow!”

“What?” Stan blinked, Soos dashing off in the interim. “Wait, you weren’t meant to agree to that! It was a joke!”

“Then you shouldn’t have said it Mr Pines!”

And with that he was gone, before Stan could argue any further.

Stan closed the door behind him, leaning against it with a proud laugh.

Soos had got one over on him. “I really am getting old, aren’t I?”

His earlier debating thoughts had been halted, the encompassing knowledge that the light would never have the chance to spark to life ever again giving him immense satisfaction.

He was sure for a second he heard an angry hiss, a sharp vicious sound that whistled through the cracks in the door. His smile grew victorious, feral and filled with teeth.

The town knew, the warning was there without their knowledge of the creature.

It was stuck on the ocean bed and no one would ever need to enter the old lighthouse again, never bat an eyelid at the light not functioning when the new lighthouse shone a beacon across the waves for all, with the trusted keeper making sure it never faltered.

Soos would make a good keeper, Stan knew that, the handyman had proved himself time and time again and pride blossomed thick and fierce in his rib cage.

And then the feeling vanished, leaving him hollow, cold and uncertain.

His smile dropped, his gaze glazing over as he slipped back into his spiralling thoughts.

His excuse against sailing away had just been dashed against the rocks.

That bubbling, fizzling hope had ignited without his say so at Soos’s words, his efforts to dampen it being halted at every opportunity.

If he couldn’t even convince himself, how would he ever convince Ford?

 

* * *

 

Stan jolted out of his small reverie, looking up only when a shadow blocked his view of the TV. He raised an eyebrow at his brother’s hands on hips, the little scolding lilt to his expression that tried to hide an amused smile. A snide comment was on the tip of his tongue at the large cloak of a blanket that was draped around his shoulders but he refrained.

Even so, Ford didn’t need to know Stan was doing anything other than unwinding for the night, didn’t need to know he’d been yet again thinking about his proposition, had been weighing up all the pros and cons just like he always seemed to do when given precious moments to himself. “What? Its midnight, Sixer, that’s hardly late. I was just watching some terrible movies, that’s all.” He shrugged, taking a swig of his drink before shuffling over so that there was space for Ford to sit beside him. “I’m still not used to sleeping, especially not early, so I thought the drone might help me drift off, that’s all.” His eyes flickered to his brother as he made himself comfortable. “How about you? I thought you went up hours ago. Couldn’t you sleep?”

“I was reading.” Ford sniffed, settling in, draping the blanket he’d had around him over both of them before snuggling closer into it. “I thought after a few chapters I’d feel tired but then I… uhh… finished the book?” His words turned sheepish, scratching at his cheek awkwardly before his face brightened. “Besides, if I’d fallen asleep I’d have missed the chance to watch movies.”

“…You are such a child. Always thinking if you sleep you’ll miss out on something fun.”

“Well in this case, I was right, wasn’t I?” Ford grinned, victorious even as Stan snorted and shook his head.

“Right? I already said they were terrible, didn’t I? Though let’s see if I can’t find something a bit more interesting at the very least.”

Ford watched patiently as the TV clicked, letting the quick images that flowed past relax him as he sluggishly wondered what was happening from the short spurts they caught. He yawned, but tried to disguise it. “Can- can you find something with this Casper in?”

Stan huffed out a laugh, covering it with a cough to try and stop him from getting too loud. “Not on your life. You can find out that one on your own.”

Ford sulked, leaning back in the chair with an annoyed grumble. It only added to Stan’s smile though, playful and teasing, and Ford had hoped for that reaction if he was really honest. “I guess I’ve got my first mystery to solve then.”

“Guess so- oh, this is quite a good one.”

He shook his head, letting Stan explain the first twenty minutes of the movie they had missed without prodding back to the earlier teasing. The steady drone of the movie would have slowly sent him to sleep he felt, but Stan’s animated description of what they had missed was doing more to keep him awake than the screen.

Luckily for him, Stan didn’t seem at all perturbed when he laughed at a particularly bad death scene as it appeared, nor the very wooden monster that shuffled out afterwards.

Not that Stan kept quiet about it.

“What you laughing at?”

“Uhh, just the…  _realistic_  nature of the movie.”

“Heh. Thought so. I thought we could do with a decidedly unrealistic one.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Good, because we haven’t even got to the best worst bit yet.”

The night continued, the pair getting into the movie more and more as it got deeper into the plot, not because it was necessarily good but because the terrible dialogue and bright pink blood kept waking the pair of them up in fits of giggles.

“Did you see that person in the background?”

“The camera guy? Or the dramatic death that stole the show from the lead?”

Ford blinked, following Stan’s finger to the cameraman who was still on display even minutes after first catching sight of him. He erupted into silent giggles, grinning brightly as they both grew more and more disbelieving at no one seeming to notice him.

“Wow, scrap what I said, this is a terrible movie.”

“That’s what makes it so good.”

Stan bit his lip, shrugging. “That or we’re both more tired than we thought and everything is funnier than it should be.”

Ford nodded along with him, the pair quietening down into a warm, happy hush, small smatterings of mirth intersecting it all.

It was in this warm, glow of a late evening that Ford thought it might be ok to bring up their earlier conversation once more.

He’d given him a few days, he didn’t mean to keep asking but-

The anticipation, the waiting, was killing him.

He didn’t care, or he pretended not to care, about the answer. Only that Stan let him know what it would be.

“Hey, Stan?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you- uhm- you know, thought any more on-”

The air grew decidedly colder before he could even finish the question.

“Never mind. Ignore me, just wondered if you were thinking about… let’s just continue watching the movie.” Ford cursed himself, cursed his insatiable curiosity as Stan’s smile vanished to a thoughtful and conflicted expression. There was something there that made him hopeful, all that confliction, but it also sent a shiver down his spine.

He was causing that turmoil, that inescapable battle that Stan seemed to be locked in.

Maybe he hadn’t made it clear enough.

“Stan, don’t- I don’t mind what the answer is. I only asked you if you’d think about it more, give me an answer then, you know?”

“If…”

Ford’s ears perked up, his back straightening as he leaned forward. “Yes?”

“If I said no… would you still go out there?”

Ford frowned, not quite looking at Stan as the man shifted over to watch him. Too caught up in his own thoughts at the question, he didn’t realise how hawkishly he was being observed, how Stan sat gauging him for any reactions.

“I… are you worried I’d leave you behind again?” The words whistled out into the dead of night. He can almost see them fall flat and heavy in the crystalline air, loud and clear when all he wanted was to drag them back in where they couldn’t sit between them. Stan had frozen where he sat and he could hear his thoughts ticking away, wondered just how much his mind had looped and twisted over that question.

He couldn’t let that question eat away at him any longer.

“Stan, nothing you say will ever make me leave you behind.” He felt more than saw Stan relax and there was a deep seated ache in his core that his brother would- could think otherwise.

“But you want to. Go out there, that is.”

Ford nodded, his fingers fidgeting along the fabric to keep his thoughts in a line. “Yeah, I’d like to but- and this isn’t meant as a guilt trip, I assure you- but it really wouldn’t be the same without you.” He smiled, finally glancing over at his brother apologetically. “I’m not saying I can promise I’ll never go out on the water. There are mysteries on land and on sea that I have to solve, Stan, and if a mystery points out there on the open water… I can’t say I wouldn’t take the chance.”

“Even with that-”

“Even with the monsters out there.” Ford could only hope his determination had overridden Stan’s concerns as his mouth snapped shut.

He watched him give a whistling breath, the air hissing out of pursed lips as he seemed to think everything over.

Ford waited, holding his own breath in anticipation, obliviously hopeful that even if he had no idea why he had asked those questions, that Stan was about to say that he wanted to as well. Wanted to take on the world even with the nightmares that inhabited it.

That was his Stan, the one he remembered, ready to fight the world and win.

The world grew that much colder when Stan spoke again.

“Alright, I get the message. I’ll come with you sailing.” Stan kept his gaze on his hands, his fingers twiddling together nervously. “I can’t have you sailing on your own, I just can’t- so, I’ll come too.”

“No.”

Stan turned, eyebrows furrowed but Ford couldn’t think how to make things right in that moment.

Everything hurt.

Stan didn’t want to sail with him.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

“What? Sixer, I just said I’d go sailing with you. I thought you’d be over the moon.”

“You said you would. Not that you _wanted_  to.” It was Ford’s turn to scrutinise his brother as Stan’s face twisted awkwardly.

“I mean- I don’t-” Stan sighed, running a hand through his hair before his expression soured. “Fine. Honestly? It’s not the smartest idea you’ve had, Sixer. I’ve been thinking it over and over and over and-” He leant forward, his head in his hands. “It’s not even that I don’t want to, not really- there’s just so much… but what I want doesn’t matter. Not really.”

“It  _does_. Don’t say that.”

Stan waved a hand at him. “No. What matters most is that the thought of you going out to sea on your own terrifies me more than anything else. I mean watching you go under has haunted my nights for near on thirty years.” The words were quiet, muffled, and Ford almost wondered if he was meant to be hearing them as Stan pulled away just enough so that his words rang clear. “What matters is, I can’t stop you going out there. I knew I’d never be able to. And that’s not a guilt trip either, I’m glad that you’re not scared of it all, honestly. But I can’t have you going it alone, so I’ll join you.”

“No. Plain and simple, no.” Ford stood up, letting the blanket drop from him before he squatted in front of Stan. He took his shoulders in his hands, pushing at them until Stan looked up and locked eyes with him.

His eyes seemed so tired Ford almost wished he’d never asked the question in the first place.

“Right, Stan, you listen to me. You do not have to do anything.” Ford shook his head when Stan opened his mouth to disagree. “No, you really don’t. If you really are that scared, then… I’ll think about not going out there.” His brother’s face twisted into a guilty relief, his mouth hanging open, no real sound able to make it past his shocked thoughts. “Maybe, I will go out there, but it wouldn’t be sailing. Not like we always planned. A daytrip or two, that kind of thing… But Stan, when I said it wouldn’t be the same without you I really meant that.” His hands squeezed tighter, his face genuine and sad that Stan had thought otherwise. “And that doesn’t just mean you physically being there. There’s no point us going if only one of us wants to go. I’m sorry if it came across as anything otherwise.” He smiled sadly. “I want us both to want to go adventuring, otherwise there’s no point. And if you don’t want to- that’s OK. I won’t ask again.”

With that, as Stan continued to sit silently, thoughtfully, he stood up, shuffling over to curl back up in the warm. He closed his eyes in silent relief when Stan settled slowly beside him too. “How about you tell me what we’ve missed in the movie?”

“Y-Yeah, OK- and Sixer?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

_You don’t need to thank me._

Ford couldn’t get the words out and start another debate, not when his brother’s gaze had softened, relieved and genuinely grateful for his response. He just wanted to get that cosy glow back to the room. When it had been filled with laughter and soft banter instead of cold, thick conversations.

Stan shook off the conversation quickly, for which Ford was eternally grateful, even if his smile seemed less genuine than before. Or as if something was preoccupying him, even as Ford tried desperately to bring everything back around.

Another movie started before he finally felt like the atmosphere had well and truly vanished.

It was a lot later even than that, however, as his eyes drooped and his head rested against his brother’s shoulder that he felt Stan shift and turn his head towards him. He decided not to move, not wanting Stan to know he had disturbed him at all.

“You know, I really was thinking about it. And… part of me does want to…”

Ford held his breath, keeping his eyes closed shut, scared if he opened them the moment would end before Stan finished.

“…That’s the problem. Deep down I want to and it scares the hell out of me.”

His heart sunk, snuggling into the warmth and pulling up the blankets in a feign of sleep to cover Stan more as he shivered. He knew he wasn’t actually cold, and it was the icy presence of whatever his mind was conjuring up that was causing the shakes but it was all he could think to do and still pretend he was asleep.

Stan sighed, tugging at the blanket as well before finally settling down similarly.

He waited until he felt his brother’s breath even out, his muscles relaxing before he sat up slowly, scrutinising him. At least in sleep Stan’s worried frown had eased, his furrowed conflicting emotions evening out to a peaceful slumber.

“It’s OK, Stan. Whatever you decide is OK.”

 

* * *

 

“Up here again I see.”

Stan huffed, glancing over his shoulder with a subtle childish smirk. “Don’t give me that look. It’s not the middle of the night, Sixer.” He turned away from him, his eyes back on the horizon as he gestured at Ford to join him. “Besides, I did shout before I left, told everyone where I was going. The view up here is great when the sun’s setting.”

“We were a bit busy packing to really respond though.” Ford shook his head, walking to stand beside his brother, his face curious and concerned as he glanced over at him, though he tried to hide it behind a scolding expression. “I thought you were looking for Mabel’s, uhh, ‘Merhorse’ teddy that we couldn’t find so you didn’t have to help pack?”

“I found it.” Stan glanced down, the soft weird teddy still in his hand.

He hadn’t wanted to give it back to her just yet, making up some weird convoluted story in his head that if he didn’t give it back, they would have to come back and see him quicker.

Or at least he could use it as an excuse to phone them or-

“You not ready for them to leave?”

Stan sighed at Ford’s words. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” He gave a sad smile as he looked up, his plans scattered to the winds behind reality. “But summer doesn’t last forever.”

“And neither does anything else. They’ll be back visiting before you know it.” Ford plucked the small fluffy creature from Stan’s hands giving it a once over with obvious distaste. “And as awful as these creatures are in real life, we can’t have our favourite niece going home without her favourite toy.”

Stan laughed as Ford nudged him. “Alright, alright, I’ll give it back to her.” He swiftly stole it back from his twin, hugging it tight, dignity be damned.

He might have to give it back but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take what comfort he could and pretend he was hugging Mabel for a few moments.

“Good.” Ford nodded, gesturing behind them. “Should we-”

“No- not yet. Not now.” Stan scrunched up his face distastefully. “I don’t want to see their packed bags just yet.”

“They’re still going to be here tonight, and tomorrow morning. We’re just getting what we can packed up ready.”

“I know, I know.” Stan gave another long, deep sigh. “It just makes it real seeing all their bright colours vanish from everywhere.”

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence for a while, Ford giving him the quiet that he desperately needed and hated all at once. It was like trying to school himself, back into what it was like before the two whirlwinds invaded his life.

Getting him ready, prepared.

But he still didn’t like it.

And there was still so much hanging over them.

With another small noise of dissent, he spun, putting the small stuffed creature on top of the lantern so that he didn’t do something he regretted whilst they had their conversation. He took a few deep breaths, feeling Ford’s eyes burning into his back before he finally found it in him to turn back to him, his face once again a myriad of emotions that he couldn’t seem to hide.

“Ford, about sailing.”

Ford blinked, eyes widening before he shook his head. “It’s fine. I thought we’d been over this, I’m sorry for pushing-”

“No, now it’s your turn, Sixer. Stay quiet for a second. This is hard enough as it is to explain.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing just like he had what felt like years ago when it was only a week at most. He was grateful when Ford stayed quiet, waiting for him to get his thoughts together enough to push through the block in his mind. Though once he did, the words flowed and flowed and he couldn’t get them to stop. “I do want to, Sixer, really I do. It wasn’t until you said that we didn’t need to go unless I actually wanted to that I finally admitted to myself that deep down- I do. I really do. But we  _can’t_. As much as we want to, I  _know_  that we shouldn’t. That creature is still out there, and that’s just one stinking bottom dweller- there’s an entire ocean of them that you want to tempt with a little sail boat. Do you know what it would do to me if I lost you again? If it was all my fault all over again-?”

Ford cut his words off, taking quick strides that silenced him. “Hey.”

“I’m just saying-”

“The truth? Far from it. Stan, if anything happens to me it would be my own fault. Just like last time.” He shifted every time Stan tried to turn away, always keeping him eye to eye. “This is everything we’ve ever dreamed about, Stanley. It’s right there for us to take. You just admitted that you wanted to.” Stan hated how his eyes gleamed the way they did. “Don’t you think it’s worth the risks? Worth a try to-”

“No- Yes- I don’t know!” Stan’s arms spread out, hands flitting uselessly as he struggled again to work it out. “I don’t get it. I hate the sea, I’ve sat here and hated it for so long. But now you’re back, I can’t seem to keep hating it. Why? Why do we both want to go sailing still? After everything?”

“Because you know deep down that the sea isn’t the problem. That the creature was.”

“It’s still out there.”

“So are a lot of things- good and bad. You’ll find them on land too. Both anomalies and humans and everything in between. Wherever we go there’ll be dangers, Stan. It’s just a fact of life.”

“It’s safe here.” He knew he should stay quiet, but he couldn’t seem to, not when Ford was knocking down the last few barriers, making it harder and harder to disagree.

“And is this what you want? To stay here?”

Stan shook his head. “No, not really.”

Ford nodded, eyes twinkling brightly. “Is it the sea? Is that too much? We could start with a road trip if that’s still on the table? You said about that before?”

Stan wanted to agree. Wanted more than anything to relax and nod and let Ford make the compromise but his mouth moved before he could stop it, being more honest than he ever wanted to be. “I want to sail.”

Ford beamed. “Then let’s sail.”

“It’s such a bad idea, though.” Stan pulled away, running his hand underneath his glasses with a small self-deprecating laugh. “Story of my life, why stop now?”

“Stan.”

“Sorry, sorry, everything’s just so jumbled in here.” Stan tapped on his head like there was something wrong and Ford pushed his hand away.

“You’re being logical, you’re thinking over every possible outcome, which means you’re taking this seriously. I’m proud of you.”

Stan choked on the words, not really sure how to take them.

Ford smiled sadly, nostalgia washing over them both. “It’s so unlike you, to not power recklessly ahead when you want something. I’m sorry if you’ve lost that ‘cause of me.”

“I just grew up, Sixer. I know, hard to believe.” Stan winked at him playfully, getting a shove. “I guess I might not have lost my determination but I don’t want to pick fights I can’t win, not when there’s more favourable outcomes by staying on the side-lines.”

“We were never meant to sit on the side-lines.”

Stan rolled his eyes, shoving his brother back, without another word, not really sure where to go with the conversation now.

Was that it? Settled? Would Ford stay where it was safe?

…Was he happy about that? Or just resigned?

“Come on.”

“Hmm?” Stan looked up again, his thoughts having threatened to overtake before he felt the hand on his arm pushing him forward.

Ford smiled gently, eyes flicking between Stan and the horizon. “You came up here to see the sunset, right? Let’s stop talking and watch.”

Stan nodded, eyes back on the view. Many a time had he stood up here alone, watching the sun rise and fall, mapped the ever changing colours and wished he had someone to share the scene with.

In that moment, a small sliver of courage overtook, some semblance of it at least, or maybe the need to prove himself to both of them after Ford’s comments on how much he had changed.

He didn’t like to play it safe, it ate away at him.

At least on some occasions he could be himself, even if not in the bigger scheme of things, when the outcomes were far more important.

“Here, the best view is from the balcony.” The door clicking open made the tight feeling around his heart ease. He didn’t think it would until they’d been stood out there for a while, but taking the plunge at all seemed to have made him relax. There was no taking away the offer now, without a decision to make it felt far more natural to open the door wide and walk out before his brother, clasping the cold metal railing to watch the sky turn a delightful pink without the glare of the glass around them.

He didn’t turn as Ford joined him a few seconds later, as if he hadn’t been prepared for the turn of events and had stuttered to a halt for a second. He gave a low appreciative whistle though as his eyes skimmed the view again. “You’re right, somehow it’s better out here.”

Stan gave an agreeable noise in return, trying to focus his gaze outwards instead of nervously following Ford, his protective instincts still flaring up at them both being so high up. He needed to know he could, needed to know that at least some of his fears were unfounded.

“Hey, Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember what Ma used to tell us about the dark?”

Stan’s gaze shot to him reproachfully, almost wondering whether to dignify the question with an answer. “Of course I do. What do you take me for?”

“Yeah? Well, what was it then?”

His eyes narrowed at the smirk on Ford’s face, sibling rivalry taking over before his brain could question what he was doing by bringing this up. “Ma told us we weren’t imagining things when we heard and saw stuff in the night, because there were creatures out there- that’s what started you up on all this weird anomaly stuff in the first place, wasn’t it?” He couldn’t help the quick quip back, amusement taking over as Ford grimaced at his wording.

“That’s only half of it. Go on.”

Stan shook his head, befuddled. “I dunno, what do you want from me? She told us that we should be careful and cautious of what was out there? But never show we’re afraid, ‘cause that makes things worse with those kinds of creatures-”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Ford leant his elbows on the railing, his eyes focused away from Stan as if worried how he might react. “As long as we know something’s out there, we shouldn’t be scared of it.”

Stan nodded, still not sure what was happening. “Yeah, that was it. I mean, what’s there to be afraid of if you know it’s there? You can fight back if you know what you’re up against.”

“Exactly.” Ford shifted, his face exuberant at the admission. “So, it’s the same with the sea, isn’t it? We know there are things out there now… I just don’t want them to win.”

Stan froze as his brother continued to watch him, his thoughts snapping together quickly as if suddenly everything made sense in a way it hadn’t since Ford had asked him that question and turned everything on its head.

He could hear his mother again, her voice soft and comforting but with that quiet strength he had always found far more reassuring.

 _“I’m here to tell you a secret. There_ **is** _something in the darkness. And you can beat it, just like everything else. So don’t let fear drag you into the dark. Keep it close, use it to your advantage, and know you can win.”_

“Oh.” The switch had flicked, the hesitance, the steadfast ‘logic’ that had stopped him for once plunging forwards crumbled in an instance. Time and time again he had made sure never to let fear pull him down. Had walked, straight backed when he saw things dart around him as he walked to the lighthouse, as wisps and whispers tried to get into his skull, and staunchly he ignored them all.

He knew what was out there, waiting for them in the sea.

So what was there to be afraid of?

He’d already beaten it once.

He couldn’t find the words to say it though.

“I mean, the monsters only win if we let them.”

“ _Oh_.”

“…Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad one? Because I really can’t tell.”

Stan shook himself, the pained fretful note in Ford’s words bringing him back. He decided to play it up a bit, unable to resist as his twin grew restless beside him. He closed his eyes, gripping the railing harder. “Damn it…”

“OK, bad ‘oh’ it is- just ignore I ever said anything.”

“Appealing to my competitive streak, my one weakness.”

The world grew deathly silent. He chanced peeking an eye open, bursting out into laughter as Ford stared back at him slack jawed. “Trying to catch flies, there, Sixer?”

Ford’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he couldn’t quite remember how to speak before he found his voice again. “Does that mean…?”

“That I have no more arguments? Yeah, I guess it does.” Stan shrugged, scratching at his chin. “I said I wanted to, the only thing holding me back is fear- but that’s really dumb, isn’t it? What’s the point of being scared of those things out there? That’s what they want us to do.”

“You really mean it?”

The whisper was so filled with awe, so much anticipation for the future that Stan felt it rub off on him, felt that electric charge, the thrill of adventure finally fill him unhindered. “I really think I do.”

 

“If you change your mind, I’ll understand.”

“What is this? You getting cold feet now?” Stan laughed, the sound bubbling up as Ford shook his head violently. “Then stop with all that! Just be happy that I agreed.”

“I am- I really, really am!” Ford launched at him, wrapping an arm around him. “I just want you to know you can change your mind at any point. I don’t want you regretting anything.”

Stan grabbed hold of him, grumbling whilst gripping the railing tightly with the other hand. “You’re already  _making_ me regret this. That was a terrible idea. Have you forgotten how high up we are?”

“Yeah but we’re filled with them and that’s the fun of it!” Ford seemed to vibrate with energy, eyes lit up and dazzling as his brain started to work through plans already.

“…I guess it is.” Stan looked away, out over the shoreline, over the rocks and rolling waves, out towards where the sun was finally sinking completely from sight, touching the waves for one final time.

Only now, instead of an impossible distance, imposing and daunting, it instead held that childish optimism again. That dream like quality, that sudden urge to at the very least  _try_.

That was where they were headed. On and on and on. Wherever the wind in their sails took them.

And not knowing was half the fun.

“Can we celebrate? Go out for dinner with the kids on their last night here and end today perfectly?”

“Now that really is the best idea you’ve had for a long time.”

 

* * *

 

_We’re here. I can’t believe we’re here._

The excitement that had bloomed when Stan agreed, wholeheartedly agreed that he wanted to go on this trip, had only continued to grow as they had planned it all.

He knew Stan had still had his reservations, of course he did, but with every extra detail, every added precaution and conversation and opening up to one another about what they were hoping for, what they were nervous about, had lifted another weight from their shoulders.

And now here they were, finally on board the newly christened Stan’O’War II.

A dream come true. Finally they would set sail just like they had planned since they were ten years old.

It was hard to keep still. Stan had already teasingly remarked about his childish restlessness on more than one occasion- when they had found the perfect boat, when he found Ford’s giant to do list, when packing was complete and he had nowhere else to store all the energy still bubbling up. Every single time Stan had given that laugh that reminded him of when they were younger, exuberant and just as eager no matter how much he tried to say otherwise.

There was so much to do! So much to explore! He didn’t know where to start!

Should they follow the coastline? See what there was in more familiar waters? Or race ahead? Head straight into open waters and see what lay beyond the horizon?

Both were good options, anywhere was perfect.

The fact that they were doing this was all the incentive he needed to push forward and let the wind take them without a care in the world.

Maybe a plan of action wasn’t always strictly necessary.

The sound of static reached him from the open doorway, pulling his thoughts back to the present with a bright tranquil feeling. Soft music started to filter through as Stan found a station, humming along without a care in the world.

This is what he’d wanted.

This was what home felt like.

Sure the Shack had felt like home, but it wasn’t the building itself. It had been the gleaming sparks that were their Great Niblings filling up all the cracks and open air with just their illuminating presences.

But this, this was their childhood and their future and everything else all rolled into one.

He’d miss the kids, of course he would, but they were still with them.

He shook his head, the thought of the kids reminding him of the task at hand as he continued to fiddle with the decorations they had been entrusted with. The kids had sent a few care packages, promising to send more whenever they stopped off at port for a while and let them know where they were. He was already trying to anticipate what they would send, his elated surprise at their gifts so far warming his heart with pride.

They were such perceptive kids.

The radio for one was a gift from them both, they seemed to have noticed just as much as Ford how quickly Stan filled silences, not liking unnecessary dead air. The chatter in the diner always seemed to relax him whenever they visited, not to mention the inane questions and constant talking from his gullible tourists had somehow settled Stan more than if they were silent once his monologues were over.

He could only guess that it was a comfort, to stop himself from overthinking.

But it seemed Stan wasn’t the only one they had been watching. It was obvious that he liked the warm since coming home, but Stan had already seen to that, an entire box of warm clothing and assorted woollen blankets already strewn across the room. It wasn’t even September yet and they’d both agreed to go to warmer climes as the weather grew colder but even so they were well stocked just in case.

Sure, they had both been sent sweaters. Stan hadn’t been able to stay standing when he saw the octopus sweater that Ford had unwrapped, not until he had opened his own and both of them sat in shocked awe at the lighthouse that bedecked Stan’s own sweater, identical to the one that sat outside up to the actual flashing light near the collar.

The Lighthouse Keeper’s new uniform as Ford liked to call it, making sure the kids knew Stan was wearing it more often than not.

But those had been separate presents, something for both of them.

Stan’s present had been the radio, focusing on sound.

No, instead of warmth, for Ford the kids had focused on  _lights_.

Which was where he found himself now, hooking up the long string of fairy lights that they had sent them, twisting them around as far as they would reach in the cabin so that wherever he looked there was light.

He’d turned them on before they’d left the Shack, a wash of pure appreciation threatening to engulf him when he realised there wasn’t a pure yellow light in sight, all of them switched out for a myriad of other warm shades- white, red, gold, orange- all melding together to make him feel safer and warmer than any blanket could.

A little safe haven on the cold, deep seas.

Because no matter how insatiable his curiosity was, he never wanted to take a trip that deep into the abyss again.

He was happy above the water, it was where they were meant to be.

Safe and off on an adventure.

The best of both worlds. A compromise.

As long as they were careful, the world was theirs.

“Sixer! Aren’t you done yet? The world’s not going to wait forever!”

“Almost!” Ford smiled as the lights flickered to life in front of him. He nudged them all a bit further apart, now able to see exactly where they were needed and where they weren’t as they lit up the small area, dusting his desk and his journal with specks of coloured light. His fingers skimmed across the little bulbs when he was satisfied with their placement, distracted in equal measures by their uplifting glow and by the giddiness in Stan’s voice, his thoughts waylaid from before.

There had been a marked cautiousness to him whilst they were getting ready, double and triple checking everything, making sure they knew what they were getting themselves into and what they would do in an emergency.

But once they were on the boat, all that caution had gone to the wind. He could hear his feet running up and down outside the cabin, tweaking this, fiddling with that. Unable to stop himself wanting to seize the moment and dive headfirst into the journey and worry about the consequences later.

The biggest kid of them all.

But Ford couldn’t fault him. Not when it seemed that seeing the boat had finally shifted the last of Stan’s doubts away and the fire in his blood had ignited all in one fell swoop.

“Come on, Sixer, you really gotta see this view! I was wrong before! The view from the lighthouse was great but nothing beats being out on the water!”

“Coming!” Ford bolted up and out of the small cabin, any thoughts of unpacking the rest of their items vanishing under the glee of what awaited them on the open sea.

It would take time for everything to be as it should be, they both knew that, there was a lot to do, a lot to take in.

A lot to learn. Both about what was out there and about one another.

And time was not on their side.

But they would continue to move forward, small happy chirps and booming laughter echoing through the empty cabin as heavy footsteps reverberated, the ship shuddering as it finally set sail, cutting through the waves. Shiny and new and raring for adventure as much as its occupants.

And unbeknownst to both of them, if you followed the small trail of lights in the cabin, the ones that wound over and under railings, trapped behind anything that would hold it up and keep the lights shining outwards… If you followed each bulb, counting them off one by one, the little fireflies that flickered a bright warm glow all around the room and decked the ceiling in fractured stars…

You’d come across a plug that had never made it to the wall. Both occupants far too preoccupied with the draw of the infinite horizon to remember to finish the job.

But even so each light glowed on, bright and strong and would continue to do so, day and night as dazzling as that first day.

That first day when hope burned bright and even though the lighthouse keeper had passed on his duties to another, the gleaming world of possibilities had opened up before them.

On to a new adventure, a new journey filled with light and warmth and dreams turned into realities.

And with that realisation, as the future finally became clear, each and every place the light keeper dreamed of, each story to tell the kids back home, lit another bulb in the chain. A chain reaction so fast and full of wonder not one bulb was left unlit.

The light keeper had finally turned on the light. And the light had seen fit to stay with him.

His reward for his steadfast service and determination.

All he had to do was focus, keep the things he held dear close to his chest and let them guide him forward. The bright light of a brother beside him, filled with anticipation. The rays of pure sunlight that were his niblings, giving him purpose and guiding him safely home. The pinprick flickering stars, the people he had met along the way and even after all this time, still wished them well and waited for them to come back home.

As long as he kept all those people in mind, ignored the wisps that might darken his doorstep and the darkness that even now tried to slip through the cracks that would take time to heal completely, the lights would continue to glow for him.

And if those lights were to dim on occasion? Flicker and fade and lose their warmth?

If he ever forgot that people cared?

Well, then it’s for the best that neither of them are all alone in the dark anymore.

Sure, there might be a lot of things ahead of them.

Dangerous, magical exciting adventures, trials and tribulations, and a whole world to explore.

An overwhelming journey, both good and bad and everything in between.

They never had been ones to stay put and stay safe. Never ones to stay on the well-trodden trail, to cautiously take a step back and wait instead of carving their own path forward.

But they would always have each other, and there would always be hope to guide them on their way.

As long as they knew where to look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining us on this adventure x There’ll be more in this AU very soon but this story has ended ♥  
> Thanks again to Ran for giving me this awesome opportunity to write to my hearts content on this one and for giving every chapter a lovely piece of your artwork to really bring it all to life. @sightkeeper You’re amazing, your art’s amazing ;A; love you friend!


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